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Issued Semi-Monthly. 

SUBSCKIFTION Price, $12.00 Per Year. 

No. lO.-NOVEMBER 16, 1890. 

Copyrighted^ 1890, hy Street c£- Smith. 

Entered at the Post- Office, New York, as Second- Glass Matter. 



STELLA ROSEVELT. 


A NOVEL. 


BY 


MRS. aEORGIE SHELDONch^-it^o 



The time is long past, and the scene is afar, 

Yet when my head rests on its pillow, 

Will memory sometimes rekindle the star 
That blazed on the breast of the billow : 

In life’s closing hour, when the trembling soul flies, 
And death stills the heart’s last emotion, 

Oh, then may the seraph of Mercy arise, 

Like a star on eternity’s ocean. 




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NEW YORK: 


STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 


31 Ro9c .Street. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER: PAGE. 

I;-.^Gn* the ' Atlantic 9 

II/— 'Saved. 19 

III. — The Young Stranger 30 

IV. — Mrs. Richards 38 

V.— Bitter Disappointment 47 

VI.— Stella’s • Appeal ^ » v 57 

VIL — A Consultation.. 68 

VIII.— Retrenchment... 76 

IX;— Change OF Fortune 89 

X.— The Unwelcome Guest 97 

XL— Filthy Lucre. 104 

XII;— The Cameo Ring 1 14 

XIII. - -A Glad Meeting 124 

XIV. — “Let Me Depict Your Future.” 135 

XV. — A Fatal Mistake 146 

XVI. — A Great Shock 154 

XVII. — “Why Has He Done This Thing?” 162 

XVIII.— Explan ATioNS 175 

XIX. — Malicious Falsehoods 188 

XX. — Star’s Determination 198 

XXL— Fruitless Efforts -. 212 

XXII.— The Goal Reached 222 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER. PAGI. 

XXIIL— An Interesting Story 234 

XXIV.— What Next? 248 

XXV.— Star’s Delight 258 

XXVI.— “What Does This Mean?” 265 

XXVII.— Defeated. 273 

XXVIII.— Rescued from a Horrible Fate 279 

XXIX. — Josephine’s Ingratitude 288 

XXX.— “I Love Him Still.” 294 

XXXI.— A Noble Resolution * 301 

XXXII.— “I Promise.” 308 

XXXIII.— “You Are the Traitor.” 316 

XXXIV.— Mutual Explanations 325 

XXXV.— Mrs. Richards’ Great Expectations 330 

XXXVI.— Josephine’s Ambition 337 

XXXVIL— The Mock Marriage 345 

xxxvni.-“l Have Been Mad.” 353 

XXXIX.— A Crushing Blow 363 

XL. -.--Stella’s Mental Agony 371 

XLI. -Rehearsing THE Past 382 

XHI.t-The Lawyer’s Rebuke 393 

XLIIL— “ God Bless Our Star.” 

XLIV.— Faith’s Triumph. 414 




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STELLA KOSEYELT 


CHAPTER 1. 

ON THE ATLANTIC. 

“A star 

Which moves not ’mid the moving heavens alone, 

A smile among dark frowns— a gentle tone 
Among rude voices, a beloved light, 

A solitude, a refuge, a delight.” — Shelley. 

A noble steamer was laboriously plowing the turbulent waters 
of the great Atlantic, heaving, and struggling, and creaking 
with every revolution of her gigantic screw, for the waves were 
rolling high — mountain high” — in very truth. The huge dark 
masses of water would swell and rise up like a great black wall, 
reaching, it seemed, almost to the angry, leaden sky above, 
then SMeeping down with mighty force, thunder upon the decks 
of that great vessel, making it shudder to its very center, send- 
ing it down, down into the yawning depths, as if eager, in 
venomous spite, to blot it out of existence. 

There were very few first cabin passengers on board the 

as she thus labored on her weary way betx^een Liverpool and 
New York, for it was late in the year, and the rush of travel 
was over for that season. 

Fifteen were all they numbered, while there were about twice 


10 


ON THE ATLANTIC. 


as many in the steerage ; and well it was that there were no 
more to share the horrors of that dreadful voyage. 

It had been a very gloomy passage, a severe storm arising the 
second day out, which had increased in violence until now — the 
fifth day — it appeared as if all the elements had conspired to 
work destruction upon the stanch ship which was faithfully 
battling with the cruel waves and toiling to bear its precious 
freight of human souls safely into port 

It was a forlorn little company that sat shivering and trem- 
bling in the close saloon — only five, all out of the fifteen who 
had not succumbed to the seasickness — and these five had the 
appearance, with their pale, pinched faces, their heavy eyes and 
disordered attire, of feeling anything but comfortable or well. 

An old man of perhaps sixty years, his hair and beard white 
as snow, his face sallow and wrinkled, his eyes anxious and 
sunken, sat upon the floor — indeed, it was impossible to sit 
anywhere else — braced against a stationary seat, and clinging to 
one of the iron posts which supported the roof of the saloon. 
He was wrapped in a heavy shawl and two elegant rugs ; his 
soft hat was drawn down over his forehead, and he seemed 
entirely oblivious of everything about him. 

Two spinsters, companions and sisters, lay upon cushions 
flat upon the floor, and, also wrapped in their rugs, looked not 
unlike two huge bags of wool rolling from side to side with 
every motion of the boat. 

Another man had crept into a corner, where he tried to keep 
himself from pitching about by clinging to a rope which he had 
fastened to an immovable table. 

The only other occupant of the place was a little fair-haired 
maiden of perhaps fifteen or sixteen years. 

She was small and delicate, and was sitting, or trying to sit, 
upon the floor, not far from the old gentleman before men- 
tioned. 

She was wrapped in a thick woolen shawl, and her head was 


ON THE ATLANTIC, 


II 


covered with a crimson hood, so that not much could be seen 
of her, save the fair, pale face, with its sad, appealing blue 
eyes, which looked out from beneath masses of shining golden 
ringlets that had strayed from her hood and lay upon her white 
forehead. She had a sensitive mouth, a pretty, rounded chin, 
a small, straight nose, and altogether, had she possessed some- 
thing of color and less of sadness in her face, would have been 
considered wondrously fair to look upon. 

This little waif, with her child-like countenance, her pathetic 
eyes, and her patient, uncomplaining spirit, was traveling alone. 

There was not a soul on board that vessel whom she had ever 
seen before the day of sailing. 

An orphan — her father, and the only relative on whom she 
could depend, had died just three months previous — she was 
going to the United States, to some distant connections who 
had consented to take her until she was of age and teach her 
to earn her own living. . 

She had been put in the care of the captain by the people 
with whom she had been staying since her father's death, and 
he was to deliver her to the strangers to whom she was going. 

Some strange magnetism had attracted her toward the old 
gentleman with the white hair and beard of whom we have 
spoken, and near to whom she was now sitting. 

She had hovered about him ever since the first day of the 
voyage, not in an obtrusive way, but as if she liked to be near 
him — as if there were something trustworthy and protective 
about him. 

Perhaps one reason for this was that her seat had been next 
his at table — while they had been able to sit at the table — and 
once or twice, when she could not attract the attention of the 
steward, he had handed her what she wanted, and helped her 
bountifully to fruit when otherwise she would have been 
neglected. 

When the storm came on with such violence that those not 


12 


ON THE ATLANTIC, 


confined to their berths were obliged to take to the floor of the 
saloon for safety, she had crept as near to him as she dared, 
and though she had sat there all day long, he had never spoken 
to her once, or appeared to heed her presence, but remained, 
instead, wrapped in his own thoughts. 

Suddenly the ship rose upon a mighty wave — up, up she 
went, until every trembling passenger held his breath with awe; 
then she plunged headlong down into the raging deep, with a 
sinking, sickening sensation that chilled the blood and made 
the flesh creep with fear. 

The next moment another terrific wave struck her, with a 
noise like the roar of a hundred cannon, and with a force 
which made her quiver like a frightened creature from stem to 
stern ; and ip the dread pause which followed, and which was 
fraught with horrible suspense, the little maid clasped her 
small hands and cast an appealing glance at her gray-haired 
companion. 

He, seeing it, smiled grimly as he asked, in rather a gruff 
tone : 

‘‘Afraid, sis?” 

Before she could answer him the vessel gave another tremen- 
dous lurch, and she was rudely precipitated almost into the 
arms of her questioner. 

He caught her just in time to save her from being dashed 
against the iron post by which he was sitting, and when she 
had recovered her breath a little, he put her gently down beside 
him, keeping one strong arm around her to save her from a 
second fall. 

“This is pretty rough weather. Are you afraid?” he asked 
again, and looking with something of pity down upon her 
white face. 

“ It startles me to have the vessel pitch and tremble so, and 
those dreadful waves seem as if they want to swallow us ; but I 
know that nothing can harm us, unless ” 


ON THE ATLANTIC, 


13 


“Unless what?'' the old man queried, as she hesitated and 
glanced shyly up at him, a tinge of color coming into her 
cheeks. 

“Unless it is God's will," she answered, reverently. 

A sneer curled her companion's lip at this reply ; but the 
sweet eyes looking up into his seemed to touch some tender 
memory, for it quickly died, and he repressed the skeptical 
words to which he was about to give utterance. 

But she felt it, nevertheless, and, with a grave look and 
serious tone, she asked : 

“Don't you believe that God rules the storm, and that He 
will take care of us?" 

“My experience all through life has been that I have had to 
take care of myself” he returned, with some bitterness. 

“And I have been taught to trust ‘our Heavenly Father.' I 
think one would hardly have much faith in ones self 2X such a 
time as this," the little maiden said, with a look of awe and an 
involuntary shudder, as another wave broke over them. 

The man by her side felt the gentle rebuke, but he evaded it 
by saying : 

“I think no harm will come to us. I have crossed the 
Atlantic many times; I have sailed upon other oceans, and 
have been in storms equal to, if not worse, than this. I do 
not fear the elements much in one of these well-built boats. 
There is only one thing at i.ea that I really feel afraid of. " 

“And what is that?" 

“Fire." 

He felt the thrill of fear that went vibrating through her 
whole frame as he uttered the dread word, and appeared to 
regret having added to her apprehension, for he continued, re- 
assuringly : 

“ But an accident of that kind rarely happens nowadays, and 
where everything is so carefully conducted as on these large 
steamers. There, sit close beside me," he went on, as still 


14 


ON THE ATLANTIC, 


another thundering mass of water swept over them; ‘‘lean 
against me — so. I will keep my arm about you, and you will 
be safer than sitting by yourself. But how does it happen that 
you are traveling alone?” 

“My father and mother are dead,” she answered, with the 
same appealing look that had touched him before, while her 
lips quivered over the sad sentence. “I had no friends in 
England, and so I am going to live with a cousin of my 
mothers in America.” 

“What is your name, little girl?” 

The “little girl” flushed rosily at this question — as what 
maiden of fifteen or sixteen would not at this slur upon her 
proudly attained “teens?” — while she thought he need not 
have asked if he had taken pains to look at the passenger list ; 
but she replied : 

“Star Rosevelt Gladstone.” 

A startled, almost agonized gleam shot into the old man's 
eyes, and his face seemed to shrivel, until he looked ninety 
instead of sixty, as the young girl, in her sweet, clear tone, 
uttered this name. 

“Star Rosevelt!” he repeated, with pale lips, while his voice 
sounded weak and far away. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, not noticing his emotion; “or rather 
my real name is Stella, but mamma called me Star always ;” 
and her voice faltered as she spoke of her dead mother. 

Her companion did not answer, and the roar of the elements 
increasing, further conversation was out of the question, even 
had they been so disposed, which they appeared not to be. 

The old man's head dropped upon his broad chest, and he 
seemed suddenly to have forgotten his companion, the angry 
waters, the rolling vessel, and everything else in his own sad 
thoughts. 

Darkness began to settle down upon them. The storm raged 
on; the spinsters moaned and rolled upon theii comfortless 


ON THE ATLANTIC. 


IS 

couches; the man in the corner swore and raved as he was 
rudely jostled about, with no prospect of rest or sleep; while 
the gray-haired man and the fair-haired maid, encircled by his 
strong arm, sat side by side, silent, yet less forlorn than their 
comrades by reason of a feeling of companionship, until the 
young girl's blue eyes closed, her golden head sank uncon- 
sciously upon the broad shoulder, and she slept sweetly and 
tranquilly the whole night through, a smile on her red lips, a 
sense of comfort and protection in her young heart. 

When morning broke and Star Gladstone awoke, she found 
herself lying upon a heap of rugs, a pillow underneath her 
head and a soft robe covering her. 

The sun was shining brightly into the saloon, where, only a 
few hours before, all had been so dark and dismal ; the sky was 
beautifully clear and blue, without a vestige of the angry clouds 
which had so threatened ship and life a little while ago, and the 
good vessel was riding the gradually subsiding waves with strong 
and steady pulsations, which seemed to have almost a sense of 
victory in their throbbings, while the terrors of the night seemed 
only a troubled dream of the past. 

She arose from her soft couch with a murmured ‘‘How 
kind r' as she realized who had made her so comfortable, and 
went below to her state-room to make her toilet. 

After a refreshing bath she brushed out her long, abundant 
hair until it shone like strands of finest gold ; then gathering it 
in her two hands, she plaited it into one massive braid, leaving 
the ends loose like a great golden tassel, and tying them with a 
broid blue ribbon. 

Then she substituted a charming little blue hood edged with 
white for the thick crimson one which she had worn all night, 
wrapped a soft gray shawl about her shoulders, and went up on 
deck looking as bright and sunny as the morn itself. 

She was very lovely. Short fluffy locks of her hair fell like 
a shining mist over her white forehead; her great azure eyes 


ON THE ATLANTIC. 


1 6 

gleamed like bluebells after a shower ; her cheeks were tinged 
with a delicate color, and a smile of joy at the return of fair 
^weather parted her red lips, showing two rows of small white 
teeth between. 

As she stepped out upon the deck, she espied her companion 
of the night standing aft, looking out upon the silver^ tipped, 
dancing waves. 

She glided to his side and saluted him with a sweetly spoken 
‘^good-morning,’^ which fell like music on his ear. 

He turned and looked at her, an involuntary smile parting 
his lips, which evidently were unaccustomed to such relaxation. 

“You are rightly named — you look like a star,'’ he said, 
abruptly, while his keen eyes were fixed intently on her bright 
face. 

She flushed, but answered archly : 

“Stars belong to the night; they are of no account in this 
glorious sunshine and she lifted her face up to the sun, as 
if in gratitude that its friendly beams were shining on her once 
more. 

“ It ts a glorious morning," said the old man, taking a long 
breath of the pure, keen air. 

“Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
morning," Star murmured, in a low tone, but with a thrill in 
her voice which told how she felt the words. 

Again a sneering smile distorted the lips of her companion. 

She saw it, and flushed a vivid crimson, and the tears sprang 
quickly to her eyes. 

“Mamma used to repeat those words so often when she lay 
sick and dying," she said, sadly. “I know that s/ig looked 
forward to the ‘morning’ when she should be released from 
her suffering; but they never sounded so pleasantly to me as 
they do now on this beautiful morning after our night of 
terror." 

“Anything which was a source of comfort to your mother 


ON THE ATLANTIC, 


17 


you doubtless treasure very tenderly/’ kindly replied the gentle- 
man, who was a gentleman, and felt sorry that his unbelief or 
skepticism should have brought a shadow upon that fair young 
face. 

“There is the breakfast-bell,” he added, in a light tone, as 
it rang out its keen notes. “Are you hungry?” 

“Indeed I am, sir,” Star answered, eagerly, adding, with a 
clear, sweet laugh that fell like music on his ear: “Eating has 
been an impossibility during the last few days, and I have 
considerable lost time to make up. That bell has a welcome 
sound.” 

“Then take my arm, little girl, and we will go down to- 
gether; the boat is not quite steady even yet.” 

“ Little girl !” 

She flushed again, and shrugged her graceful shoulders. 

Then she glanced up at him with a serio-comic air, and said, 
with a pretty pout : 

“lam sixteen years old, Mr. ” 

She could not finish, because she did not know his name. 

He laughed. 

“And maidens of sixteen don’t like to be called little girls, 
eh?” he said. “Well,” he continued, “I feel as if I am 
privileged to call you that, since I am nearly sixty, and my 
name is Jacob Rosevelt.” 

Star stopped short and looked up at him in surprise. 

“ How strange !” she exclaimed. 

“Rather,” Mr. Rosevelt returned; then asked: “ How did 
you come by your middle name?” 

“My grandmother gave it to me.” 

“Was her name Rosevelt?” 

“No; her maiden name was Stella Winthrope.” 

Mr. Rosevelt started, then turned suddenly to look out over 
the sea, and to hide the pallor of his face. He asked no more 
questions, and all through breakfast he appeared absent-minded 


i8 


ON THE ATLANTIC. 


and taciturn. He scarcely spoke to Star during the meal — 
indeed, hardly noticed her at all— and she wondered if she 
could have offended him in any way. 

Before she was half through he left the table, and she saw 
no more of him until late in the afternoon. 

About three o'clock she left the saloon, where she had been 
trying to while away the time by reading, and went on deck. 

It was very cold, but the sky was cloudless, the sea calm and 
beautiful, and, save an occasional call and response from the 
sailors, the distant thud of the machinery, and the swash of 
the water as they plowed the sea, there was scarcely a sound on 
board the vessel. 

Star found a sheltered spot, and wrapping her shawl close 
about her, sat down for a little while to watch the white-capped 
waves and the speeding ship. 

She had scarcely settled herself, thinking with a feeling of 
gratitude how lovely it was after the dreadful storm, when there 
came the noise of a dreadful explosion from somewhere for- 
ward, followed by a fearful rocking of the vessel ; then the 
most horrible shrieks and cries rent the air; a column of 
smoke, sparks, and cinders went pouring up from the region 
of the engine-room, and immediately passengers and sailors 
began running about in great confusion, and perfectly frantic 
from fright. 

Star was unhurt, but she sprang to her feet and stood as if 
paralyzed with fear, a look of horror on her young face, a 
feeling like death at her heart. 

"‘Something dreadful has happened," she murmured, with 
white lips. “ Have we escaped the storm only to encounter a 
worse fate?" 

Then, as she saw the sailors getting down the life-boats, a 
sudden thought seemed to inspire her. She darted from the 
deck down into her .state-room, where, opening a tiny trunk, 
she seized a package of papers, which she pulled up froni 


SA VED. 


19 


beneath her clothing, and thrust it into her bosom. She then 
took from a pretty box several articles of jewelry, which evi- 
dently had belonged to her mother, and fastened them about 
her clothing, putting some of them into a pocket of a skirt and 
pinning it securely together. This done, she darted out and 
up to the deck again. 


CHAPTER II. 

SAVED. 

Here she found the captain, sailors, and passengers — those 
of them who were unharmed — hovering around the life-boats, 
eager to spring into them the moment they were lowered, and 
gathered, from what she could hear in the confusion, that the 
boiler had burst, and the accident had caused such serious 
damage to the vessel that she was fast sinking. 

As she went nearer the captain she saw Mr. Rosevelt. He 
looked gloomy and anxious, and very pale, while he was eagerly 
scanning the faces of the people about him, and holding a life- 
preserver in his hands. His face lighted as he turned and saw 
her, and he heaved a long breath of relief. 

'‘I was looking for you,’' he said, in a hoarse voice, while 
he immediately proceeded to fasten the preserver about her 
person. 

He then drew her arm within his, led her to the side of the 
vessel, and stood quietly waiting until the boats were lowered 
and the captain should bid them enter. 

‘‘Have you anything valuable that you wish to save — i/ we 


20 


SAVED, 


are saved?'" he asked, seeming suddenly to remember that she 
might have something. 

‘‘Yes, I have a few important papers and my mother’s jewels. 
I went down to get them after the explosion. How did it 
happen ?” she asked. 

“No one knows. It was one of those accidents which can- 
not be accounted for. The whole fore part of the ship is nearly 
blown to pieces,” he returned, gloomily. 

Star shuddered, and then turned to watch the men let down 
the boats. 

There were only three of them, the others having been de- 
stroyed or blown overboard. These were quickly filled by the 
frantic passengers and emigrants, who scrambled into them in 
spite of the orders of the captain to await his commands. 

They took everything into their own hands, and as soon as 
the seats were taken, began to push off, regardless of the ap- 
pealing cries of those remaining on board, the anger of the 
captain, and the threats of the sailors. 

Mr. Rosevelt and Star were among those left, and the old 
man pleaded for a place for the young girl, calling them in- 
human brutes to seek their own safety and leave a delicate girl 
to perish. 

“The boats will hold no more!” the frantic creatures cried. 
“Every one must look out for himself in such a time as this.” 

“Wretches! have you no feeling.? Are there no fathers 
and mothers among you? Will you see this child go down 
before your very eyes? You must take her!” he cried, wildly, 
authoritatively. 

A feeling of shame seemed to come over them ; there fol- 
lowed a moment of consultation, a counting of those in the 
different boats, then a reluctant consent was gained to take her 
into one of them. 

“Be quick !” they cried, as a rush of flame in the center of 
the steamer warned them that a new and terrible danger threat- 


SAVED. 


21 


ened ; and Mr. Rosevelt led her toward the rope ladder swing- 
ing from the vessel’s side. 

Star was very pale, but her great blue eyes had a strange, 
determined gleam in them. 

‘'Are you afraid to go down the ladder?'' Mr. Rosevelt asked, 
as he paused before it. 

“Not \i you will go first 2LXid. hold it for me," she answered, 

“ But I cannot ; they will not take us both," he said. 

She drew back from the edge of the vessel, and looking up 
into that aged face, said, tremulously : 

“Sir, you have dear friends who are waiting for you, and 
who would mourn your death. I have no one who loves me ; 
I was going among strangers, and I should not be missed. 
You go ; I am not afraid to die." 

He looked at her in mingled awe and admiration, while 
those brave words, “I am not afraid to die," smote him keenly. 

“ Child," he said, huskily, “ it must not be. You are young 
and beautiful; there is a long life of happiness, I trust, before 
you. My days are nearly spent, and I could hot accept such a 
sacrifice. Come, they are clamoring impatiently at the delay. 
Give me one kiss, such as you would give to your own father 
were he living, and then I will help you down ; or, if you are 
afraid, the sailers shall tie a rope about you and let you down." 

He bent his head, his face filled with a yearning tenderness, 
to hers. 

“The captain and the sailors — must they remain and perish, 
too?" she asked, breathlessly, while she shuddered as a hot 
wave of smoke came pouring over them. 

“ Yes; there is room for no one but you. Come ; they will 
not wait longer. One kiss, little Star, and — God bless you !" 

She looked up at him in surprise ; he was asking God to 
bless her, when only last night he had sneered at her trust in 
Him. But she kissed him, for his lips were almost touching 


22 


SAVED. 


hers as he spoke. Then she leaned over the vessels side, and 
said, in loud, clear tones : 

“I shall not go with you; there are enough in the boat 
already. '' 

She turned her back resolutely upon what seemed her only 
hope of safety, and, clinging to Mr. Rosevelt, she said : 

“I will not leave you, the only one who has spoken kindly 
to me during all the voyage. They did not want me, for my 
extra weight would lessen their chances, and I will try to be 
brave when — when the end comes.” 

She was ghastly even to her lips, but there was a clear and 
steady light in her eye. 

Mr. Rosevelt was horror-struck at what she had done. 

“ Heavens, child I you shall not do this rash thing! Hold, 
there!” he yelled to those in the boat; “she will go!” and he 
lifted her in his arms and bore her to the spot she had just left, 
while the captain roared to the men below to wait. 

But even as they were speaking the vessel gave a tremendous 
lurch and settled far down into the water. Smoke and flame 
were vomited up from below, and, horror of horrors ! the boat 
into which they had just been urging — almost forcing Star — 
was swamped in the commotion of waters caused by that lurch, 
and its luckless freight were at the mercy of the hungry waves. 

It was a fearful moment. 

Cries and shrieks for help came up from the cruel depths, 
and white, upturned faces looked piteously toward the sinking 
hulk, as if imploring even the brief respite from a horrible 
death which it could aflbrd. 

Boxes, spars, and anything that was at hand, were cast over 
to them, and several succeeded in reaching and clinging to 
them, while others went down to their watery grave before the 
eyes of that watching, agonized group on the burning vessel, 
who almost forgot their own impending fate in the sufferings of 
their comrades. Suddenly a shout rent the air. 


SAVED. 


23 


The captain hastened forward to see what it meant, and saw 
one of the sailors in the water on the other side of the vessel 
struggling with a boat. 

The noble man had espied it at some distance from the ship, 
and knew that it was one which had been blown overboard. It 
might be injured so that it would not be safe, but it appeared 
to ride the waters all right, and he resolved to swim to it and 
thus save if possible the captain and crew. 

He had nearly reached the steamers side with his trophy, 
when the other sailors discovered him and sent that triumphant 
shout. 

“Throw a rope 1” shouted the captain, new hope springing 
in his heart. 

It was thrown with a will ; the man caught it, and suspend- 
ing his own labors, he and the boat were drawn safely to the 
ship's side. 

Nimbly then the faithful crew sprang to obey their com- 
mander's orders. A liberal supply of provision and water was 
put into the boat, with plenty of rugs and what clothing was 
at hand ; the required number of oars were brought, and in a 
few minutes all that remained alive on that ill-fated ship were 
safely seated within it. 

Then they set to work to save those who were still struggling 
in the water. Ten were all that they could rescue, the rest 
went down ; and now began the battle for life. 

They pulled rapidly away from the sinking steamer, lest they 
should share the fate of those who had just been swamped, 
and the wisdom of this was manifest in lest than half an hour, 
for, with another mighty lurch and plunge, which sent forth 
volumes of smoke and flame, the noble craft went down and 
the dark \^aters swept over it, obliterating it forever from the 
view of man ; while the captain, with a groan of pain, covered 
}iis eyes and wept. 


24 


SAVED. 


It was as if he had looked his last upon the face of some 
dear friend. 

The day waned quickly ; night shut down upon them cold 
and cheerless, hiding from their sight the other boats, and 
bringing with it such a sense of loneliness and misery as not 
one in that frail craft ever experienced before. 

Star, the only woman in that boat, clung to Mr. Rosevelt as 
if upon him depended all her hope, and all that long night 
through he held in his one small, fair hand, while he pillowed 
her bright head upon his knees, and kept her covered with 
blankets and rugs. 

Twice or thrice she awoke and started up, saying : 
weary you, sir; let me sit by myself 

But he only drew her more closely to him, as he said, 
tenderly : 

*‘No, no, little one; it does me good to have you near me. 
Lie still and get all the sleep you can, for we do not know 
what the morrow may bring to us.'' 

When the morrow did come it dawned grandly beautiful. 
The «un came up from the east like a chariot of fire, turning 
the sea into waves of gold, and bringing cheer and courage 
once more to the hearts of the lonely little band who were 
struggling for life on the mighty deep. 

Nothing could be seen of the other boats, although they had 
been eagerly looking for them ever since the break of day ; but 
thej had no reason to think they were not as safe as themselves, 
and were therefore not unduly anxious. 

Star awoke much refreshed by her long sleep, and, as her 
lovely eyes took in all the beauty of the morning, a feeling of 
thankfulness for it and their safety thrilled her heart, and almost 
unconsciously she began chanting a hymn of praise. 

As she sang the first line, which was exactly like the begin- 
ning of the Lord’s Prayer — “Our Father who art in heaven" — 
every oar was suspended ; the captain reverently removed his 


SA VED. 


25 


cap, an act which was imitated by the crew, and all listened 
with respectful mien as the sweet voice rose upon the still 
morning air, thanking God for His care through the dangers of 
the night, and invoking His protection during the day. 

‘‘Thank you. Miss Gladstone,'' the captain said,- as her last 
tone died away ; “ it is well for us to begin the day thus. Yoi i 
have a fine voice," he added; “will you sing something else 
and then we'll pull westward with a will for awhile?" 

Star thought for a moment; then, with a delicate flush rising 
in her cheek, an almost holy light glowing in her eyes, and i\ 
thrill in her tones which touched every heart, she sang : 

** In the harbor safe at home 
Zion’s stately ship shall come, 

And her crew shall proudly tell 
Dangers she has braved so well ; 

Never more to tempt the wave, 

Never more the storm to brave, 

Safe from rock and breaker’s crest. 

Anchored in eternal rest. 

“ Courage, then, ye faithful few I 
Weary, weather-beaten crew. 

Let no hardship be compared 
With th’ exceeding great reward ; 

Soon life’s tempest will be o’er — 

Lo ! we near the promised shore, 

And o’er troubled waves afar 
Gleameth Bethlehem’s welcome star.’* 

There were tears in the eyes of those rough, stern-visaged 
men when the song was ended, and more than one weather- 
bronzed hand was lifted to dash them aside. There was not a 
sailor there who would not have fought dearly for the life of 
this sweet-voiced girl, who had thus touched a chord in their 
hearts which had not vibrated before for many a year. 

A little while after the boatswain called aloud : 

“A sail I a sail 1" 


26 


SAVED. 


All eyes were instantly turned in the direction toward which 
he pointed, and low on the horizon, very far away, there 
gleamed a white sail. 

The captain brought his glass to bear upon it, and reported 
a schooner. 

A signal of distress was hoisted immediately, and changing 
their course, they pulled vigorously for the vessel. 

But in less than half an hour it had disappeared entirely, 
and, with disappointed faces, they again turned their course 
westward. 

The demands of nature now began to assert themselves, and 
the captain served out a generous breakfast, treating all alike. 

Mr. Rosevelt regarded him anxiously as he did this. 

“How long will your stores hold out?" he asked, as the men 
began to eat hungrily. 

“Two or three days," he returned; “but we are so nearly 
in the line of the steamers that we shall surely fall in with one 
before our provisions are gone." 

The old man sighed, and bent a wistful look upon the young 
girl sitting beside him. 

Star had noted his anxious tone as he questioned the cap- 
tain ; she had also seen the look he cast upon her. 

“ He fears that we shall be tossed about on the ocean until 
we starve," she thought, a horrible chill creeping over her; and 
she quietly slipped all the bread that had been given her into 
her pocket, and only ate the more perishable food and deli- 
cacies which the captain had laid in her lap. 

That afternoon Mr. Rosevelt had a violent attack of vertigo, 
lying insensible for several hours; and now it was Stars turn to 
pillow his head upon her lap and minister to his comfort. 

She bathed his face and head almost constantly, and with 
her shawl shielded him from the sun, which during the day 
was very powerful, while from time to time she fed him with 
bits of biscuit moistened with nort wine from a bottle which 


SAVED. 


27 

the captain had given her for him, striving in every way to keep 
up his strength. 

He appeared to revive toward evening, and said he was 
better; but Star saw that he was very weak, and that it was 
only by great effort that he kept up at all. 

Another night passed, another day came, and still there was 
no sail to gladden their strained and aching eyes. 

The third day the captain said, with a stern brow and pale, 
compressed lips : 

“Our provisions are nearly gone — they will last only one 
more day and he shortened every man’s ration, giving Star 
alone a generous portion. 

She cast a pitying glance at the brave men toiling so uncom- 
plainingly at their oars, and her heart sank as she thought what 
might be their fate. 

Patiently she munched a single biscuit, while she slipped all 
the rest out of sight, hoarding it to fight the grim, gaunt mon- 
ster which she feared was fast overtaking them. 

Mr. Rosevelt had not been so well the day before ; he was 
even worse this morning, and she was very anxious about him, 
for he would eat nothing, waving all food away with an ex- 
pression of disgust, and only sipping a little wine occasionally, 
while he had become so weak that he could not sit up at all. 

“He won’t live two days longer,” she heard one sailor 
whisper to another, when, a little later, he had another attack 
which utterly prostrated him. “He is failing rapidly, and eats 
nothing to keep up his strength.” 

“ He shall live 1” Star said to herself, with an impulse born 
of despair ; for he seemed her chief dependence, and she had 
grown to regard him with very tender feelings. 

All night she watched over him, every half hour moistening 
his lips with wine, and forcing bits of biscuit soaked in it 
between them. 


2S 


SAVED, 


Every time she heard him swallow, her heart leaped for joy, 
for it told her there was hope even yet. 

She had several squares of sea-bread in her pocket, for she 
had saved something from every meal, and she was determined, 
as long as her own strength held out, that she would faithfully 
minister to him. 

Sometimes she was very faint herself from want of food, but 
she would take a little w'ater in her mouth and swallow it 
gradually, and thus find a relief for a time. 

The fifth day there was no food to give out — and, oh, the 
hollow eyes, the blanched cheeks and despairing hearts of that 
ill-fated party ! 

Mr. Rosevelt was conscious, to Star’s great joy, but too weak 
to move hand or foot. 

The sixth day the courage and strength of the crew began to 
fail visibly, and two of the passengers fainted from hunger and 
weakness. 

Star felt wretchedly guilty, with food in her pocket and those 
hungry eyes looking so piteously into hers; but she knew there 
was not enough for a crumb apiece, while the life of her friend 
depended upon it. 

Mr. Rosevelt relapsed into partial unconsciousness quite early 
in the morning, and she was as pale and wan as a spirit, but 
the look of determination never left her face. She worked 
over the sick man constantl}^ forcing food into his mouth as 
often as she dared, while all the day long not a morsel passed 
her own white lips. 

Just at sunset a little white cloud w^as visible on the eastern 
horizon, then it became a line of smoke ; a few minutes later 
sails were distinguishable, and soon the broadside of a steamer 
became distinct. A shout went up from the throats of the 
faithful crew, and with renewed courage and strength they bent 
every nerve to their oars. 

It soon became evident that their signal of distress had been 


SAVED. 


29 


seen, for the steamer changed her course and came proudly 
plowing the waters toward the suffering band, and an hour 
later those starving, almost helpless ones were tenderly taken 
from their peril and every want kindly ministered to. 

“What is it — where am Mr. Rosevelt asked, aroused by 
the sound of strange voices, a vigorous rubbing, and an extra 
quantity of wine. 

“A steamer homeward bound, and we are saved T Star whis- 
pered in his ear, then bowed her white face upon her hands 
and wept for joy. 

She would not leave him until the ship's surgeon told her 
that he would pull through all right with proper care, and 
commanded that she go below and receive the attention she 
herself needed. 

She staggered to her feet, a great burden rolling from her 
heart ; but her waning strength deserted her entirely, and she 
fell fainting into the arms of a young, manly looking fellow, 
who was standing with pitying face just beside her. 

He carried her below and gave her into the care of a stew- 
ardess, and thought, as he did so, that he had never in his life 
looked upon a face so pure and delicately lovely. 

The captain and crew of the ill-fated steamer, with the other 
passengers who had been saved, were shown every kindness and 
attention which their critical condition demanded, and so ended 
that season of horror, and they were borne swiftly and safely 
toward America's hospitable shore. 


30 


THE YOUNG STRANGER, 


CHAPTER III. 

THE YOUNG STRANGER. 

Mr. Rosevelt began to mend at once under the skillful treat- 
ment of the ships surgeon, and to regain his strength much 
more readily than the young girl who had been so faithful 
to him. 

He had been in a very dangerous condition, the physician 
said, and doubtless would have died but for the unremitting 
attention which Star gave him, in keeping his head cool and 
wet, and in forcing food upon him to keep up his strength. 

Mr. Rosevelt heard this with evident emotion, and during 
the remainder of the voyage evinced the greatest tenderness 
for her. 

They had not made much progress in their frail life-boat, 
notwithstanding the unrelaxing energies of the sailors, and 
found that they were still five days from New York when they 
were picked up by the other steamer; and although somewhat 
weakened by hunger and suffering, and the intense cold, yet 
none appeared to be seriously affected by their experience, and 
a day or two served to make a great change for the better in 
them all. 

On the evening of the second day after their rescue. Star con- 
sented to be carried up on deck ; the day was keen and cold, 
but the sun was bright and inviting. 

She was very wan and pale, but possessed a delicate beauty 
that attracted every one. 

They tock her directly to Mr. Rosevelt, and she gave him 
her thin hand without a word. He, too, looked so thin and 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


31 

white that the tears sprang to her eyes, and she could not 
speak. 

‘‘ Dear child,” he said, tremulously, and taking it in both of 
his, “they tell me that but for your unwearied efforts I should 
have died. I have no words adequate to thank you for the gift 
of my life; but, little Star, I shall never forget it.” 

She could not talk much, she was still too weak, but she was 
glad to be near him, and gave him as bright a smile as she could 
summon to her lips; and then, chancing to glance another 
way, she found a pair of dark, handsome eyes fixed earnestly 
upon her face. 

They belonged to the young man in whose arms she had 
fainted upon finding that they were all safe once more. 

He lifted his hat respectfully as he caught her glance, and 
then advancing, said, courteously : 

“I trust the young lady is much better this morning.” 

Star bowed a somewhat cold assent, for she had been very 
carefully reared by her refined mother, and taught to be rather 
shy of strangers. 

Then, thinking that was but a poor return for his interest in 
her welfare, she said, with a rising flush, for there was no mis- 
taking the look in those fine eyes : 

“Thanks ; I am veiy comfortable this morning.” 

Mr. Rosevelt smile^l He had noticed Star's reserve, and it 
pleased him. 

“She is a little lady,” he thought; then he said aloud, with 
a look at the young man, though he spoke to her : “ I am very 
fortunate in finding friends, for since you have been confined 
to your state-room, this young gentleman — though I have not 
yet learned his name— has ministered to me in a manner most 
kind.” 

Star's eyes glowed at this, and shQ vouchsafed the young 
stranger a smile that set his heart bounding. 

“I am afraid, though, that you are feeling far from well 


32 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


even yet/' she said, with an anxious glance into Mr. Rosevelt's 
face. 

Pretty well — pretty well, little one, for an old codger like 
myself, who has seen a good many rough times. Vm a trifle 
weak yet, but time will help that. We have had a narrow 
escape, however, and you have proved yourself a heroine." 

Star colored slightly at this compliment, and shot a shy look 
at the young stranger of the dark eyes. Then she leaned 
wearily back in her chair, tired with the exertion she had made. 

The young man turned abruptly and walked away, but he 
soon reappeared, bearing a beautiful reclining steamer-chair, 
cushioned with crimson velvet, a couple of elegant rugs, and a 
silken pillow. 

‘‘Your chair is hard and uncomfortable. Miss Gladstone; 
pray allow me to substitute this one and wrap you more 
warmly. The air is cold, even if the sun is bright and genial," 
he said, in a way that could not offend the greatest stickler for 
propriety, without even taking into consideration the license 
allowed on shipboard. 

Star could not refuse this act of courtesy, and the chair and 
soft, warm rugs, with the bright, silken pillow, did look in- 
viting. 

She let him assist her into it, arrange the rugs about her, 
and smiled her thanks for his kindness, while she looked 
bewitchingly lovely with her fair cheek resting on the crimson 
pillow. 

“Your shawl is unfastened at the throat," he said, seeing 
that it had fallen away, and fearing she would take cold. 

She put up her hands to fasten it, and found that she had 
lost the pin. 

Her young attendant noticed it, and drawing a scarf-pin 
from his neck-tie — a pin with a beautiful cameo head — he 
passed it to her. 

“Can you make this do for the present.?" he asked. 


THE YOUNG STRANGER, 


33 

She took it, noticing the exquisitely carved stone as she did 
so, and pinned her shawl closely once more. 

When he saw that she was as comfortable as he could make 
her, he stepped back a pace or two, and drawing a card from a 
■pocket, wrote something upon it, and then passed it to Mr. 
Rosevelt, saying, with a frank smile ; 

“ I presume you think it is high time that I introduced my- 
self ; pardon my neglect upon that point.'' 

The old gentleman took the card and read the name : 

‘‘Archibald Sherbrooke." 

He bent a searching look upon the young man's face for a 
moment, but the frank, honest eyes met his with such a genial 
expression that he could not harbor a doubt of him, and he 
said, cordially : 

“Thank you, Mr. Sherbrooke; I am glad to know your 
name. Mine is Rosevelt — Jacob Rosevelt — and this young lady 
allow me to introduce as Miss Star Gladstone," he concluded, 
turning with a smile to Star. 

Mr. Sherbrooke bowed to Miss Gladstone and raised his cap 
in the most gallant manner ; while Star, thinking what a nice- 
sounding name Sherbrooke was, and what a nice-looking man 
its owner was, acknowledged his salutation with a charming 
smile and blush. 

The trio soon fell into an easy chat, which lasted more than 
an hour, while the young girl grew more and more like herself. 
Several times she forgot that she was weak or had been ill, in 
listening to the gay things to which her new acquaintance gave 
utterance, and she indulged in a hearty, joyous laugh, her 
face dimpling and flashing, her eyes gleaming, her golden hair 
fluttering about her white forehead, until young Sherbrooke 
thought her the loveliest girl he had ever seen. 

He lingered long by her side, looking into her face with 
earnest, honest, admiring eyes, listening to her clear, sweet 
tones, and exerting himself to make himself agreeable to her ; 


34 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


while Mr. Rosevelt sat and watched them with a sense of 
pleasure in their enjoyment, and never dreaming of the mis- 
chief brewing under his very eyes. 

Star told the young man all about the terrible explosion, 
their expectation of death when they found the vessel on fire, 
their subsequent sufferings and terror while drifting about in 
the life-boat; while her voice grew low and thrilling as she 
spoke of her feelings when she began to realize that their pro- 
visions were falling short, and she feared they would starve to 
death on the trackless ocean. 

‘*If the captain had not been so generous to begin with/' 
she said, ‘‘it would have been better for all of us. Mr. Rose- 
velt cautioned him, but he appeared to think that some vessel 
would surely overtake us in a day or two. But after that I 
saved my sea biscuit; I put away half of what was given me 
every time ; and if I had not done so, he " — with a shy glance 
toward her friend, and dropping her voice — “would never have 
lived, for when the captain found he was too ill to eat he gave 
his share to the other men. He gave me a bottle of wine, 
though, for him, and I soaked the biscuit in it and crowded it 
into his mouth when he was too unconscious to feed himself." 

“And did you go without necessary food to do this.?" Archi- 
bald Sherbrooke asked, with pitying eyes, and a feeling almost 
of reverence for the beautiful, self-denying girl. 

“lam young and strong; I knew it would not do me such 
serious harm to get weakened by hunger as it would him," Star 
said, evasively; “and, besides " 

‘ ‘ Besides what .?" 

Star's lips quivered, but she answered, in a hushed tone : 

“I knew it was right to do all that I could to save his life, 
and it gave me something to think of besides myself; and I 
knew, too, if we all must die, the — suffering would be shorter 
if I did not eat." 

“But you were dreadfully hungry, were you not.?" persisted 


THE YOUNG STRANGER, 


35 

her questioner, feeling a sort of horrible fascination in the sub- 
ject, yet shuddering over the dreadful story. 

‘‘You will not tell him/' Star said, with a little motion of 
her hand over her shoulder to indicate Mr. Rosevelt. 

“No.” 

“Yes, I was fearfully hungry,” she went on, with a shiver at 
the remembrance, and she grew very white. “Ever so many 
times, when I was soaking the biscuit for him, it smelled so 
good that I would raise it to my lips before I was aware of 
what I was doing; but the thought always came to me in 
time — ‘he will die if I eat it." There was only a very little 
left that last day, and I knew if he died I should always feel as 
if my selfishness killed him if I deprived him of it, and I was 
saved. ” 

“ I think you are the noblest girl that I ever heard of, Miss 
Star,"" young Sherbrooke exclaimed, with reverent enthusiasm. 

“Amen!"’ said Mr. Rosevelt’s tremulous voice, close beside 
them. 

“Oh!” cried Star, starting and flushing, while the tears 
sprang into her eyes. “I did not mean that you should ever 
know ” 

“You didn’t, eh?” the old man interrupted. “I thought 
so; and when I saw you two talking so earnestly together, I 
imagined that you were giving our young friend a few facts 
which I wished to know myself, so I got up from my chair and 
came to listen. They told me,” he went on, with emotion, 
after a moment, “that you saved my life ; but, oh ! child, you 
should not have tried to do it by sacrificing your own ; and you 
would have done it on the steamer also. I shall never forget it 
of you, little one, you may be sure.” 

He laid his hand gently on her head a moment, then turned 
and left them, to hide the tears that were welling to his own 
eyes. 

“He has friends who doubtless are waiting for him,” Star 


THE YOUNG STRANGER, 


3 ^ 

said, jumping to conclusions, and as if to excuse herself for 
sacrificing so much, “while / have nobody since papa and 
mamma died/’ 

“But you are so young and” — so beautiful, he came near 
adding, but something in her earnest, uplifted eyes restrained 
him from speaking so familiarly, and he added, solemnly — 
“and it must be so hard to die with all the world before you.” 

“Yes, if you have dear ones who love you,” Star returned, 
with a deep-drawn sigh. 

A wistful look shot into the young man’s eyes at this. 

“You have no parents, then?” he inquired, in tones of 
sympathy. 

“No. Mamma died more than a year ago, and papa has 
been gone three months. I have no brothers or sisters, no 
home, only some distant relatives in America whom I have 
never seen. They promised papa to give’ me a home until my 
education is completed, when I intend to teach.” 

“Was your home in England?” 

“Yes, in Derbyshire. Papa was a clergyman in Chester- 
field.” 

“Was your home in Derbyshire?” Archibald Sherbrooke 
asked, with a slight start, while his face lighted. 

“Yes; were you ever there?” 

“Often.” 

“Isn’t it a lovely country ?” Star asked, eagerly, so glad to 
meet one who knew where her home had been. “Can )^ou 
imagine anything more delightful than a drive or a canter 
across the Derbyshire moors?” 

“No, indeed. I have often galloped over them,” he said, 
and then they fell to talking of other places that they knew; 
and when at last the dinner-bell rang, Star said, with sparkling 
eyes and cheeks in which the color was beginning to return : 

“I am hungry — really, naturally hungry, and I feel ever so 
much better.” 


THE YOUNG STRANGER. 


37 


Every day after that, during the remainder of the voyage, 
Archibald Sherbrooke sought the companionship of Mr. Rose- 
velt and his lovely young charge — for as such he regarded her. 

They became the best of friends, and the brilliant young 
Englishman seemed to arouse all that was brightest and live- 
liest in Star’s composition, so that as her sweet, clear laugh 
rang out, and she replied to his jests with merry wit and 
repartee equal to his own, many of the passengers paused in 
their conversation or lifted up their eyes from their books to 
smile at the cheerful sight and sound. 

The last day of the voyage came, and during the afternoon 
the two young people were pacing the upper deck, arm in arm, 
when Archibald Sherbrooke suddenly stopped, and pointing 
toward a distant city of spires and domes, said ; 

**Ah! we are nearing New York. A few hours more and 
we shall be there. Do you know. Miss Star, I shall be sorry 
to bid you ‘good-by.?’” 

The young girls bright face clouded at these words. A hot 
flush mounted for an instant to her brow, and her white lids 
drooped over her beautiful eyes. 

“You, of course, expect friends to meet you on your arrival,” 
her companion continued, after a moment of silence. 

“ I do not know,” she answered, w’ith a troubled look. “I 
did expect that some one would meet me upon the arrival of 
the other vessel, but now that we have had such trouble, I am 
afraid there Will no one come for me, and I shall be obliged to 
go to Brooklyn alone.” 

“That will not be at all difficult, since Brooklyn is only just 
across the river from New York. If you know the street and 
number where your friends live, you can easily find them,” 
returned the young man, encouragingly. 

Star started and looked blank at his words. 

“The street and number were written in my diary. That 


MRS. RICHARDS. 


33 

was lost on the vessel. 1 did not think, in my haste, to get it,” 
she said, in dismay. 

'‘Whew! that makes matters rather complicated for you, 
then; but never mind, the captain will know what to do about 
it, and I feel sure that you will have no trouble. It is probable 
that the pilot-boat, when it returned, after leaving the pilot with 
us, took back the news that some of the passengers from the 
wrecked steamer were with us, and your friends may hope that 
you are among them, and come to ascertain. 

Star was greatly cheered by this view of the matter, and made 
up her mind to wait patiently for whatever was to come. 


CHAPTER IV. 

MRS. RICHARDS. 

It was very late when the stately ship rolled slowly up to her 
pier, too late for the customs officers to visit her that night, and 
the impatient passengers were forced to wait until morning to 
appear before them and undergo that much dreaded ordeal of 
taking oath upon their possessions, dutiable or otherwise. 

But early the next morning the hurry and bustle began, and 
there was the usual rush to claim baggage and get away as 
soon as possible from the place where they had spent so many 
monotonous days. 

Star had no baggage to claim, and, not knowing what else 
to do, she sat still in the saloon and waited, watching the 
departing people with mingled feelings of curiosity and sadness. 

Mr. Rosevelt had told her not to be anxious about her own 
fate, for he should see that she was kindly cared for, and if her 


MRS, RICHARDS. 


39 


friends did not come for her, he would provide for her until 
they could advertise her arrival in the papers. It was unfor- 
tunate, he said, that she lost their address, since it would be 
liable to cause something of a delay in reaching her destina- 
tion. So, while he went to arrange some little matter with the 
captain, she sat and watched the hurrying crowd. 

Archibald Sherbrooke came to seek her there, and found her 
alone. 

“ Tm off!'’ he said, with animation. Ive got through with 
the customs, and have come to wish you good-by. Mr. Rose- 
velt says he is going to take care of you. I hope everything 
will come out right for you. Miss Star, and that you'll find a 
pleasant home with your friends. I’m very sorry that you've 
lost their address, for I’d call and see you before I go back to 
England if I knew where to find you. I trust, however, that 
we shall meet again, sometime ; and — will you please always 
consider me your friend?" 

He placed a card in her hand as he spoke, and she saw that 
his address was written upon it. 

‘‘Thank you," she said, with a rising flush. “ I shall never 
forget you, for you have been very kind to me. But wait — I 
nearly forgot to give you your pin," she concluded, suddenly 
remembering that she still had it, and she took the beautiful 
cameo head from her shawl and held it out to him. 

“Please keep it as a souvenir," he said, gently, adding: 
“And I wish you had something to give me in exchange." 

“I've lost everything, you know. I could give you naught 
but a ‘tress of my yellow hair,"' Star said, with a light laugh, 
and lifting the heavy braid which lay over her shoulder with a 
look of mock dismay. 

“Oh, would you?" he asked, eagerly, and taking her literally 
at her word. 

“It would be but a poor return for this lovely cameo," she 
answered, flushing beneath his eager glance. 


40 


MRS. RICHARDS. 


“No, indeed, it would not,'" he returned, earnestly. “May 
I have just a lock of its shining gold, please. Miss Star?’' and 
his fingers touched the massive braid almost tenderly. 

“I have nothing with which to cut it off, and — I’m afraid it 
would be very foolish,” she said, with drooping eyes, but a 
quickly beating heart. 

For answer, he drew a tiny pair of scissors from one of the 
pockets of his vest, and held them out to her with a smile. 

She took them hesitatingly, her delicate face crimsoning even 
to the light locks which lay upon her forehead ; then, with a 
hand that was not quite steady, she clipped a silken tress from 
among the curling ends below the blue ribbon with which the 
braid was tied, and laid it, with the scissors, in his extended 
hand. 

“Thank you ; I shall always keep it,” he said, with glowing 
eyes, as he put it carefully between the leaves of a small note- 
book which he took from another pocket. 

Then he took her hand in a warm, strong clasp, and, with a 
reluctantly spoken farewell, a lingering, wistful look into her 
lovely blue eyes, he went away. 

As he disappeared through one door-way of the saloon, the 
figure of a woman, clad in plain dark robes, entered by the 
other, and threw a quick, searching glance around the place. 

“I’m in search of a girl named Stella Gladstone,” she said, 
in sharp, incisive tones, as her eyes fell upon our lone Star. 

The young girl took a step forward, her earnest glance fast- 
ened upon that plain yet not unkind face. 

“I am Stella Gladstone,” she said, simply. 

The woman looked at her keenly for a moment, and her 
homely countenance softened into something like pity as she 
noticed her delicate beauty. Then she said, bluntly ; 

“Well, miss, if I was ever thankful to set eyes on anybody, 
I am on you, or I’m much mistaken. I’ve lain awake o’ nights 
thinking of you, ever since we heard that the vessel in which 


MRS, RICHARDS, 


41 


you sailed was lost at sea. If I got asleep at all, Td wake with 
a start from horrid dreams, where I seemed to see you drowning 
and heard your dreadful cries. Two days ago another vessel 
came in, bringing in some of those who had been wrecked. 
We got the news in the paper the night before they landed, 
and madam — Mrs. Richards, my mistress — sent me down post- 
haste next morning to see if you was among them. Of course 
you wasn't, so I went home and dreamed all night again. Last 
night news came that more had been rescued, and would land 
at this pier this morning, so I was posted off again to find you 
if possible. Well, "she continued, heaving a deep sigh of relief, 
‘‘I've got you at last, and I hope I sha'n't dream about you to- 
night. Of course you ain't overstocked with baggage.?' she 
concluded, with a grim smile. 

“No, I have nothing; everything was lost," Star replied, 
while her large, earnest eyes studied her companion's face, and 
she wondered what relation she bore to her, and who “Mrs. 
Richards," “madam," and “my mistress" were. 

“More's the pity {ov you ^ then, or I'm much mistaken," the 
woman said, with a peculiar compression of her thin lips. 

Then she added, with more of animation than she had yet 
displayed : 

“But, bless me! I suppose you'd like to know who I am, 
and won't be much surprised when I tell you my name is 
Blunt; my name is like my nature, and I'm madam's — Mrs. 
Richards' housekeeper. A pretty time of it I have, too, or I'm 
much mistaken ; though one can put up with considerable 
where their bread and butter and ‘fixin's' are concerned. But 
come, it's time we were off. Have you had your breakfast?" 
she concluded, seeing that Star had grown rather pale, and 
thinking she might be faint and hungry. 

“ Yes'm," she answered, while a wistful expression stole into 
her eyes, and she stepped back and looked over the railing into 
the dining-rcom below, hoping to see Mr. Rosevelt. She felt 


42 


MRS. RICHARDS, 


as if she could not go away without saying farewell to her kind 
fellow-traveler. 

But he was nowhere to be seen, and she saw that Mrs. Blunt 
was impatient. 

“If you please/' she said, timidly, “might I just wait a few 
minutes to say good-by to a gentleman who has been very kind 
to me.?" 

“Lor', child! it'll be no use; you'll never find him, and 
almost everybody has gone already. Probably he's in the hands 
of the customs, having his trunks overhauled, and won t want 
to be bothered," Mrs. Blunt returned, good-naturedly, but really 
very anxious to get back to her interrupted duties. 

“But he has no trunks; he was on the wreck with me, and 
he told me to wait here for him," Star persisted, almost ready 
to weep at the thought of going without seeing him. 

“I'm sorry, miss, but madam will be having one of her tan- 
trums if I am not back shortly, as there's company to dinner 
to-day, and it's nearly ten o'clock now," Mrs. Blunt, returned, 
a trifle indifferently. 

She turned as she spoke and led the way from the place, and 
Star was forced to follow her, striving hard to repress the sobs 
that were struggling in her bosom over her disappointment; 
and when, half an hour later, Mr. Rosevelt came to seek her, 
he was as much disturbed to find her gone as she had been 
to go. 

He made inquiries regarding her, and was told that some 
one had come for her and taken her away, but no one knew 
whither she had gone. 

This relieved his mind somewhat as to her safety, but did 
not lessen his disappointment at thus losing sight of her and 
not knowing where to seek for her ; but he was forced to go his 
way and bear it as he could. 

Mrs. Blunt and her sad-hearted charge walked quickly from 
the steamer, and having no baggage, she immediately called a 


MRS. RICHARDS. 


43 

carriage, and hurrying Star into it, gave her order to be driven 
to a Brooklyn ferry. 

Crossing the river, they took another carriage, and a half 
hour’s drive brought them to a stately dwelling in a fashionable 
portion of the city. 

“There, child!” Mrs. Blunt ejaculated, as the carriage 
stopped; “we’re home, and I’m glad of it, for you’ve caused 
me a heap of anxiety first and last, or I’m much mistaken; 
but you’re safe and sound, thank Heaven, though you’re rather 
delicate-looking for what I imagine is before you ;” and this 
“much mistaken” individual prepared to alight, casting a look 
of honest pity into the face of the fair girl as she did so. 

Star looked surprised at this somewhat ambiguous speech, 
and would have liked to ask what it meant, but the woman 
gave her no opportunity, paying for and dismissing the carriage 
in her quick, energetic way, and then led her around to a side 
door and entered the mansion. 

Beckoning Star to follow her, she passed through a lofty hall 
and up a wide, thickly carpeted staircase, where on every hand 
there were evidences of wealth and luxury. 

Rapping upon a door at the front end of the upper hall, a 
voice bade her enter, and the woman opened it and passed in, 
and Star following, saw a handsome woman of perhaps forty 
years, dressed with great elegance and taste, sitting in a low 
rocker by a window. 

She turned an inquiring glance upon Mrs. Blunt as she ad- 
vanced. She could not see Star, as she was directly behind her 
and hidden by her tall figure. 

“Well, madam, I’ve found her at last, and here she is,” she 
said, in a satisfied tone, and stepped one side to present the 
young girl. 

Madam heaved a sigh — it might have been of relief, it might 
have been the reverse ; no one could have told which from the 


44 


MRS. RICHARDS, 


expression of her face — as she bent a critical glance upon the 
young stranger who had come to find a home in her house. 

She arose, came for%vard, and studied the fair, downcast face ; 
for Star, after the first glance, knew she would receive no tender 
welcome from that cold, proud woman, and .her heart sank like 
a dead weight in her bosom. 

Something like a frown gathered on the woman s brow as she 
marked her exceeding loveliness. 

“Well, Stella, you have had a hard voyage,'^ she began, in 
smooth, cool tones, which made Star shrink from her and 
shiver slightly, they were so distant and devoid of feeling. “I 
am glad, however,’' she went on, “that you ar^ safe, and I 
hope, now that you are here and I am to give you a home, you 
will do your best to please me. You look very much like your 
mother as I remember her, although I trust your face will not 
prove as great a misfortune to you as hers did to her.” 

This last statement was made with some severity. Evidently 
Mrs. Richards was not pleased to find the new arrival so beau- 
tiful in face and figure. 

“ Mamma unfortunate! How?” Star asked, surprise loosen- 
ing her tongue. 

“Is it possible that you do not know how she disgraced her- 
self and family?” madam demanded, sternly, as if in some way 
Star was to blame for said disgrace. “Have you never been 
i told how a poor clergyman once preached in the church where 
I your mother attended worship, fell in love with her pretty face, 
and finally persuaded her to marry him, to the utter disregard 
of her whole family, who were highly respectable people.” 

Star’s cheeks glowed hotly beneath this tirade, and her blue 
eyes flamed at this slur upon her idolized parents. 

“ I do not consider mamma’s marriage anything of a ^mis- 
fortune’ or a 'digrace,’” she answered, -with something of 
hauteur, and speaking very distinctly. “She was very happy 
all her life, and papa was a splendid man — a superior man, ” 


MRS. RICHARDS. 


45 


Mrs. 1 ichards smiled in a lofty kind of way, as she returned : 

“It is very natural, I suppose, that you should be your 
fathers champion ; nevertheless he was not, socially, your 
mothers equal, and she degraded herself in the eyes of all her 
family by marrying a penniless preacher, and a dissenter, too.” 

Stars lips parted again, as if about to utter an indignant 
protest to this statement; but, with a wave of her white hand, 
Mrs. Richards coolly dismissed the subject and turned again to 
Mrs. Blunt. 

“I suppose everything belonging to her was lost,” she said. 

“ Yes, madam ; the poor child has nothing in the world save 
what she has on,” that woman answered, with a compassionate 
glance at Star. 

“That is awkward; but you can take her to the sewing- 
room and tell Miss Baker to measure her for a couple of 
dresses ; tell her to make them from that piece of print that I 
purchased yesterday. Can you sew, Stella.?” she asked, turning 
again to the young girl, whom she had not even invited to be 
seated. 

“ Yes’m ; mamma taught me to sew when I was quite young, 
and I have attended to my own wardrobe, with the aid of a 
seamstress, ever since she died.” 

“That is well. You can then assist Miss Baker about your 
dresses, and when they are completed I will arrange about your 
other duties. You can go now. Mrs. Blunt will show you the 
way to your room, where you can lay aside your shawl and hat 
and then go to the sewing-room.” 

Star gave the woman a stare of blank astonishment. 

She had been most delicately and tenderly reared ; her edu- 
cation had been carefully superintended by her father, and the 
constant companionship of her refined and intellectual mother 
had made her a little lady in every sense of the word. She had 
been taught to be kind and courteous to every one; to sym- 
pathize with people in trouble ; to rejoice with them in pros- 


46 


MRS, RICHARDS, 


parity ; and now this woman — this cousin to her mother — this 
human being, whom she knew her mother once saved from a 
dreadful death — had received her, after her long and perilous 
voyage, her suffering and hardships, in this unfeeling, indif- 
ferent way. 

She had not even taken her hand at greeting ; she had looked 
her over and inspected her with a critical stare, as if she were 
some beast of burden that she was buying to toil for her. She 
had not offered her the commonest hospitalities of her house, 
or given her one kind word or look. 

She had instead simply, and in the coolest manner possible, 
commented on her marvelous escape from death, and then in- 
sulted her by speaking disparagingly of her parents ; and now 
she had dismissed her from her presence as if she had been 
a menial, ordered two print dresses made for her, without a 
thought apparently of other clothing so necessary to her after 
being so long without a change of any kind. 

She took a step forward, her slight form drawn proudly erect, 
the hot, indignant blood surging over neck, face, and brow, and 
was about to demand the meaning of this strange treatment, 
when Mrs. Richards, seeing her intentions, said, haughtily, and 
in a tone not to be mistaken : 

“I told you that you could go, Stella. Did you under- 
stand me?” 

With a heaving bosom and flashing eyes. Star bowed with a 
sort of stately grace, turned and followed Mrs. Blunt from the 
room with the step of a queen ; but when the door was shut 
behind them, she stopped and confronted that good though 
eccentric woman with an aspect which, to say the least, aston- 
ished her. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 


47 


CHAPTER V. 

BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 

What does this mean?’' she demanded, passionately. ‘*Why 
am I received in this strange, this heartless manner, by my 
mother’s cousin? Why does she presume to cast aspersions 
upon my father and mother, and talk about print dresses, and 
assigning me duties as if I were a mere servant?” 

Mrs. Blunt’s breath was fairly taken away by these swift, in- 
dignant sentences and questions, and she could only gaze at 
the young girl in speechless surprise for a few moments. 

Star was wondrously beautiful then, in spite of her soiled and 
disordered attire, with her flashing eyes, her blazing cheeks, her 
delicate, dilating nostrils, her scornful, curling lips, and proudly 
poised head. 

‘‘What does it mean, I say?” repeated Star, impatient at the 
woman’s silence. 

Mrs. Blunt found her* tongue at last. 

“Mercy on us, child !” she ejaculated, her astonishment ex- 
tending to her tones. “You’ve a temper of your own, or I’m 
much mistaken; and you’ll need it, too, if you’re going to live 
in this house.” 

Then she added, more thoughtfully : 

“I’m afraid, miss, you’ve come over here with a wrong im- 
pression — I really am.'* 

“What do you mean?” Star asked. “How have I come 
with a wrong impression?” 

“What did you expect when you started to come to America 
to live with Mrs. Richards?” the housekeeper asked, evading 
her questions by putting another. 


48 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


expected that my mother’s cousin, who, papa said, was 
very wealthy, and able to take care of me, and had promised 
him to do so, would give me a place in her home as a member 
of her family, and give me an opportunity to perfect my edu- 
cation, so that I might be able, by and by, to take care of my- 
self. This was what my father understood her promise to me to 
mean — this was what I expected. But from the reception she 
has given me — cold and heartless — and as I would not have 
received the meanest beggar who came to my door — from her 
disrespectful and insulting remarks about my parents, and what 
she said about my ‘duties,’ I am afraid that my position here 
will not be a pleasant one.” 

Mrs. Blunt’s homely face was full of pity as she listened to 
what Star said. 

“Poor child,” she began, “you have expected entirely too 
much, and perhaps it would be a mercy to tell you at once how 
mistaken you are if you think you are going to find a pleasant 
home and a chance to get much of an education her^. When 
madam got your father’s letter and knew that you were soon to 
be an orphan, she said at once that it was ‘just the thing,’ and 
you would do nicely to supply the place of Maggie Flynn, the 
chamber and errand girl, and who was not exactly trustworthy. 
She said the ‘English peasants always made good servants,’ and 
as you were young and would be wholly dependent on her, she 
could train you according to her own notions. And, to make 
a long story short, you are to make beds and do chamber work 
generally, wait upon madam and run of errands.” 

And the housekeeper heaved a sigh of relief that the difficult 
explanation was over. And difficult it was, with those glittering 
sapphire eyes fixed so intently upon her, and that beautiful face 
gleaming with scorn and indignaiion. 

“In other words, she intends to make a servant — a slave of 
me,” she said, with quiet sarcasm, but uplifted head. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


49 

Ye-es — if you must put it so, miss/' Mrs. Blunt admitted, 
reluctantly. 

“What wages am I to expect.?" and the clear young voice 
rang with intense scorn. 

“ Wages?" 

“Yes, wages. What did she pay Maggie Flynn?" Star de- 
manded, with a bitter smile. 

“Six dollars a month; but — but I don’t think madam has 
thought about wages for you. She is to give you a home for 
what you can do ; and besides what I have told you, you are to 
wait upon Miss Josephine, who is not sparing of her com- 
mands, either." 

“Who is Miss Josephine, pray?" 

“The young lady of the house — Mrs. Richards' daughter." 

“ How old is she?" 

“Just turned eighteen." 

“Two years my senior," murmured Star, reflectively. “Well, 
Mrs. Blunt," she added, after a moment or two, and looking 
up with a clearer face, “show me to my room, please, and let 
me have a good bath, for I need refreshing sadly. If only I 
might have some clean underclothing to put on," she added, 
wistfully. 

‘‘You shall," the woman quickly returned. “I suppose 
madam never thought of it, and it is a shame. There, wait 
here," she added, as she threw open the door of a small room 
on the front of the house in the third story, “and I will bring 
you a change of Miss Josephine's. They will be a trifle too 
large, but never mind so that you're comfortable." 

She sped away, and as Star removed her hat and shawl she 
looked about her. 

The room was very scantily furnished, but it was clean, and 
as there was only a single bed in it, she knew she was to have 
it to herself — point which she congratulated herself upon, as 


50 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 


it would have been very obnoxious to her to room with one of 
the servants. 

Mrs. Blunt soon returned, bringing clean, fresh garments, 
and Star felt that she had never realized before how great a 
luxury cleanliness was. 

‘‘You can go to the bath-room at the end of the hall,'’ she 
said, laving them over Star’s arm. “I have fixed the tub for 
you, lining it with a clean sheet, so that you need not feel shy 
about using it. I know you’ll feel a great deal better after it ; 
then ril come to you again in a half or three-quarters of an 
hour, and take you to Miss Baker; and — I forgot — here’s a 
comb T’ve never used.” 

Star felt very grateful to the kind-hearted creature, and made 
the most of her opportunity. 

She had a refreshing bath, then combed out her luxuriant 
hair, re-arranging it as nicely and carefully as she had been 
taught to do in her own home, and when all was done she 
looked as bright and felt as fresh as a new creature. 

When Mrs. Blunt returned at the end of an hour, her plain 
face relaxed into a smile, though Star had thought that smiles 
were at a discount with her as a general thing. 

“Well, you do look nice, or I’m much mistaken; and those 
hands! — they’re much too fine and nice, in my opinion, for 
drudgery ;” and the woman glanced admiringly at those small 
members, of which, to be truthful. Star was a little proud. 

“Well, I am ready to go to Miss Baker,” she said, with a 
little sigh. “It is evident that I shall not be in a condition 
to do any kind of work, or drudgery, as you call it, until I am 
properly clad. ” 

“She’s true blue, and it’s an abomination to make a servant 
of her,” muttered the housekeeper, as she led the way to the 
sewing-room. 

Miss Baker was in the midst of fitting a party-dress for Miss 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


51 

Josephine— a rather fine-looking girl, with black eyes and hair, 
a brilliant color, and a full, graceful figure. 

Mrs. Blunt introduced Star, and then gave Mrs. Richards’ 
orders about the ‘^two print dresses.” 

‘'Goodness gracious! are you Stella Gladstone.?” ejaculated 
the pet and pride of the Richards mansion, with a stare of 
surprise. 

Star bowed a cold assent to this rude salutation, and then 
walked quietly across the room and seated herself by a window. 

Miss Baker, however, had nodded and smiled kindly at her, 
and she felt sure that she should like the weary-looking seam- 
stress. 

“Well, I guess mamma will be glad you have come,” Jose- 
phine pursued; “she has been nearly plagued to death with 
that Maggie Flynn — you’re to take her place, you know, as 
chambermaid and errand-girl.” . 

Star did not reply, and Miss Baker shot an indignant glance 
at the rude girl. 

The young stranger’s heart was swelling within her until it 
was nearly ready to burst with insulted pride and bitter dis- 
appointment. She had longed, when she had found herself 
alone in her room, to relieve herself with a burst of passionate 
weeping, but she dare not give way to it lest it should unfit her 
for everything during the day ; but now it seemed as if she 
could not endure much more. 

She had never dreamed that such a reception as this awaited 
her. 

She had pictured to herself, many times, being drawn into 
the arms of a pleasant, gentle-voiced woman, who had loved 
her mother, and who would love her for that mother’s sake, if 
not for her own. She had thought to twine her arms about 
her neck, and, laying her head upon a sympathizing bosom, 
tell her of her dear parents, what their hopes and plans had 
been for her, and what her own desires for the future were. 


5 ^ 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 


and expected to receive only kind and encouraging words in 
return. 

How different it all was, and how cruel that all her hopes 
must be crushed in this unfeeling way ! 

She had been ambitious to become a cultivated woman and 
scholar, and to follow out her father's plans for her education, 
and come up to his standard, which was a high one. 

But instead she found she was to be degraded to the level of 
a common servant, all her prospects destroyed, all her hopes 
crushed, and she felt as if she could not bear it. 

‘‘I will not submit to it. I will not give up my hopes. 1 
will not be a servant,'' she kept saying over and over to herself, 
while she sat there and waited for Miss Baker to attend to her 
needs, and .felt rather than saw Josephine's impertinent inspec- 
tion of her personal appearance. 

“You've got a wonderful head of hair," that young lady at 
length observed, as she approached her after being released 
from the seamstress’ hands. “I think I never saw such a heavy 
braid before; and I believe it will just match Nellie Colton's; 
she is papa's niece. I’ll tell mamma to have a barber come 
and cut it off. Of course you can't afford the time now to 
take caVe of it, and it would make such a splendid band for 
Nell." 

Star regarded her in blank astonishment. The effrontery of 
this young lady was simply overpowering. 

“Indeed !" she at last quietly replied. “If Miss Colton is in 
need of a band of hair, she will doubtless find it at almost any 
hair store in the city. I intend to keep mine." 

Miss Richards colored angrily, for Star's great blue eyes met 
hers fearlessly, and her tone betrayed an independence which 
did not promise well for any tyranny which she might expect to 
exercise over her in the future. 

“You will do exactly as mamma desires, miss," she cried, 
and then turned and left the room. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 53 

Star s face was also very red, and she swallowed an angry sob 
as she turned to Miss Baker. 

‘‘ I am ready to sew,'’ was all that she could say. 

She longed to get some work into her hands, hoping thus to 
distract her thoughts from self and her bitter disappointment. 

The seamstress cut off the breadths of a skirt and gave them 
to her, pitying the pretty, yet despised, stranger from the bottom 
of her heart. 

‘'May I use the machine.!^” the young girl asked, glancing 
at that labor-saving instrument. 

“Do you know how?" 

“ Yes’m." 

“Very well. This is a Florence, and I will show you how 
to thread it." 

“I know how, thank you. Mamma had a Florence, and I 
have often used it. " 

She arose, and going to it Miss Baker saw at once that she 
was fully capable of using it. 

All day long she stitched and sewed, working quietly, yet 
rapidly, and by night one dress was nearly completed. 

“You sew very nicely," Miss Baker said, as she examined 
her work late in the afternoon, “and this print will make you 
a very neat dress. I wish Mrs. Richards would allow me to 
trim it, but she told me to make it plain. She is in a hurry 
about the other work." 

Star said nothing to this, but after the seamstress had gone 
home, she cut and pieced , together some dainty ruffles from 
some scraps that had been thrown aside ; and all the long 
evening, while the family were down stairs entertaining visitors 
and making merry, she was sewing and finishing off the print 
dress, that she might have something fresh and clean for the 
morning. 

But she was, oh ! so sad and lonely, and she could not help 
thinking of the previous night, when she had sat in the gay 


54 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


saloon of the steamer and chatted so sociably with Archibald 
Sherbrooke, and felt a strange thrill of happiness in sitting 
beside him. 

She had not been allowed to eat with the family during the 
day. She had not seen Mrs. Richards, and did not even knfcw 
of how many members the household consisted. It was evident 
that she was to be ignored, except as her services w^ere required, 
that she was to be made a drudge, and her proud young spirit 
resented it with all the strength of her nature. 

I will never live so ; I am above it. I am capable of better 
things, and I will not consent to become a nonentity,'' her heart 
kept saying, over and over again. 

But she was wholly dependent upon these people ; her father 
had consigned her to their care. She had no money, save a 
letter of credit for a hundred pounds, the sum total realized 
from the sale of all the dear objects which she had been accus- 
tomed to see in her home since her infancy, and this she had 
been advised, by the lawyer whom Mr. Gladstone had chosen 
to settle his affairs, to consign to the care of Mr. Richards. 
But she had concluded since morning to say nothing about it 
to any one. 

She had no other friends ; if she had possessed them she 
would have flown to them at once. She was a forlorn stranger 
among strangers, and she could see no way at present out of 
the difficulties surrounding her. 

She had eaten with Mrs. Blunt, who was veiy^ kind to her, 
and tried to tempt her appetite with all the daintiest bits upon 
the table ; but the poor child was so sick at heart that she 
could scarcely swallow a mouthful. 

When Miss Baker came the next morning, she looked the 
surprise she felt, as she opened the sewing-room door and saw 
Star seated within, busily sewing upon the dress she had been 
making for Josephine the day before. 

And truly the young girl was a goodly sight to behold. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


55 


Her beautiful hair had been brushed until it shone like satin, 
and then gathered into a simple knot at the back of her head— 
she did not intend to have it cut off, and she had dressed it in 
this way so as not to attract attention to it — while the clustering 
locks which fell over her forehead, almost touching her eye- 
brows, gave a piquant expression to her face. Her eyes were 
bright, in spite of her “night of tears” and longing for the 
dear old home and familiar faces over the sea; her cheeks 
delicately flushed, and the fresh print dress, which fitted her 
slight, graceful figure perfectly, and which she had so tastefully 
trimmed, could not have been more becoming if it had been 
made of the richest materials. 

“Why, Miss Gladstone, however did you manage to finish 
your dress, and put so much extra work into it, after I left last 
night?” the dressmaker asked, with some misgivings about 
madam s approval when she should see it. 

“ I managed it because I needed it,” Star answered. “I did 
not like to put on the dress I wore on the steamer again, it was 
so soiled and disfigured ; and I ruffled it because I like pretty 
things and have been accustomed to them.” 

“I am afraid Mrs. Richards will object to so much trim- 
ming, for she was particular to mention that it should be 
‘plain,'” said Miss Baker, glancing dubiously at the ruffles up 
and down the front, and at the neck and wrists. 

Star made no reply to this, but her red lips settled them- 
selves a trifle more firmly, and her small head was lifted with a 
quick, proud movement, which told that she intended to exer- 
cise her own taste as far as she was able in the matter of her 
own wardrobe. 

The second morning after her advent at the Richards’ man- 
sion, as she was descending to her breakfast, she suddenly en- 
countered a portly but good-natured looking gentleman on the 
stairs. 

She glanced up at him, and was about to pass on with a 


5 ^ 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 


slight though graceful salutation, when he stopped short and 
regarded her with surprise. 

“Holloa! who are you?'' he asked, brusquely, yet not un- 
kindly. 

Star colored a lovely pink, as she replied, modestly : 

“lam Star — or, I should say, Stella Gladstone." 

“Stella — Gladstone I" he exclaimed, in surprise, Then 
he added, with an appreciative glance at her golden head with 
its dainty forelocks, her great, star-like eyes, and red lips : 

“That sounds well — very appropriate, too, I should say. 
When did you arrive? We have been very anxious on your 
account. " 

Star's scarlet lips curled slightly. 

It appeared that he had not been notified of her arrival — 
Mrs. Richards had not considered it necessary to speak of the 
welfare of one whom she intended to make her servant. 

They had been anxious on her account I 

He might have experienced some uneasiness concerning her; 
his kind eyes and pleasant face seemed to indicate a good heart ; 
but the other members of his family, she judged, would not 
have grieved so very much if she had really gone to the bottom 
of the ocean, as they feared she had. 

“I arrived the day before yesterday — Tuesday," she said, 
somewhat coldly, in reply to his question. 

“Ah! I was in Chicago that day — reached home last night. 
You've had a pretty hard time, little girl, haven't you?" 

“Yes, sir," Star returned, wondering if he had any idea how 
hard, while the tears rushed unbidden to her eyes at his kind 
tone. “I never expected to see land again," she added, trying 
hard to suppress a sob, as she thought she would almost rather 
have died than come among such cold-hearted people as her 
mother's cousin's family appeared to be. 

“Well, well, you are safe now, thank Heaven, and you must 


STELLA'S APPEAL. 


57 


try to be as happy as possible with us,” Mr. Richards said, still 
more kindly as he remarked her agitation. 

Star lifted her great eyes to his with a look of surprise. Could 
it be possible that he did not knov/ the position she was destined 
to occupy in his household ? 

It certainly appeared so, for he was looking down upon her 
with admiration and even something of affection. 

‘‘Thank you, sir; you are very kind,” she said, with a sigh, 
as she turned sadly away and left him. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Stella’s appeal. 

Star went down to the housekeepers room after her en- 
counter with Mr. Richards, and ate her breakfast in a very 
thoughtful mood. 

Mrs. Blunt watched her curiously, and with a troubled ex- 
pression on her honest face. 

“Child, if you don’t eat more you’ll die, or I’m much mis- 
taken,” and she deftly slipped a dainty slice of buttered toast 
on her plate as she spoke. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Blunt, but I believe I am not very hungry 
this morning, she returned, with a smile. 

“I should think not, indeed, nor at any other time. You 
haven’t eaten a ‘square meal’ since you came into this house,” 
the good woman said, with an injured air. 

Star was too deeply occupied to heed it, and finishing her 
coffee in silence, arose and proceeded slowly up stairs to the 
sewing-room, intending to finish her other dress that morning. 


58 


STELLA’S APPEAL. 


There was a look of resolution on her young face ; her eyes 
gleamed with a new purpose. 

“I will do it/' she nfurmured, as she stood thoughtfully 
outside the door a moment, one small hand resting upon the 
knob. I may as well make a bold stroke for myself at once, 
or I shall sink into nothingness. I must have an education ; I 
cannot — I will not grow up ignorant, and have poor papa's 
kind care in the past all go for nothing. " 

She turned the handle of the door and passed into the room. 

She found Mrs. Richards standing in the middle of the floor, 
holding up the unfinished dress in both hands, and inspecting 
it with no pleasant expression of countenance. 

She glanced at the young girl as she entered, and as her 
keen eyes ran over her dainty figure in its new and tasteful 
garment, her face grew dark. 

Star bade her a courteous ‘‘good-morning," but she did not 
even deign to notice the salutation. 

“Who trimmed these dresses.?" she demanded, sharply. 

“I did," Star answered. 

“Who told you to do it.?" 

“No one, marm; but I like things made pretty, and as there 
were plenty of pieces which could not be used in any other 
way, I made them up into ruffles." 

Star spoke very quietly, but a bright red spot burned on 
either cheek. 

“You like ‘ things pretty,' do you.? And that is the way you 
calculate to spend your time in this house, I suppose?" Mrs. 
Richards retorted, sarcastically. 

She received no reply, and continued : 

“ The pieces you have cut up into senseless ruffles I intended 
you should make into patch-work for the servants’ beds during 
your odd minutes." 

Star glanced at the numerous “senseless ruffles" which en- 


STELLA'S APPEAL, 


59 

circled the indignant matron's ample figure, and thought there 
might be such a thing as a distinction without a difference. 

“ Ive half a mind to make you s'lt right down and rip off 
every one," Mrs. Richards proceeded, still chafing over the 
matter, and flushing as she noticed Star's glance and half read 
her thought. ^‘The idea of a chambermaid with ruffles and 
furbelows ! And I do believe that seamstress has made your 
dress so tight that you cannot breathe," she concluded, pounc- 
ing upon the poor girl to make an examination of the offensive 
robe, for the slight, graceful figure before her was not at all 
pleasing to her. 

“No, marm, my dress is not tight; it only fits me nicely;" 
and Star's slender fingers laid over quite a plait, thus showing 
that there was plenty of room for inflating her lungs to their 
utmost capacity. 

“Then you are laced," persisted madam. 

“Laced.?" repeated Star, who did not quite understand the 
obnoxious term. 

“Yes; your corsets are too tight." 

“Oh! I never wear corsets; mamma did not approve of 
them." 

Mrs. Richards bit her lips and colored with vexation. She 
was not showing to advantage in this controversy. It was clear 
that Star’s perfect form was the work of nature’s own hand, and 
she would be obliged to put up with it, unless she tied her up 
in a sack to hide its comely outlines. 

“Well," she said, throwing aside the dress she had been 
examining, “I want you to come with me now; I am going 
to assign you your regular work. For one thing, you are to 
make all the beds in the house, except those in the servants’ 
rooms ; then you are to keep Josephine’s and mine in order, 
wait upon us generally, and sew when there is nothing else to 
be done." 

Star stood looking down at the carpet in a thoughtful way 


6o 


STELLA^ S APPEAL. 


while her would-be task mistress reeled off these instructions ; 
then she raised her eyes, which looked almost black instead 
of their usual beautiful blue, and fixed them full upon the 
woman's face. 

‘‘Did you understand," she began, “when papa wrote to* 
you, asking you to assume the guardianship of his only child 
and superintend her future education, that he had any idea that 
I should come into your family as a servant.? I am sixteen 
years old, and although I have been taught to do many things 
in my home, and to do them well, I have never done any hard 
work. ■ I have spent most of my time in study, and papa left 
written instructions with me regarding my future course in that 
direction. I am very fond of music ; I can paint and draw 
quite well, I am told, for one of my age, and papa wished me 
to keep on with these accomplishments, so far as I was able to 
and attend faithfully to the other branches of my education. I 
tell you this that you may understand something of the dis- 
appointment I have experienced, since my arrival in this 
country, to find that I was expected to fill the place of a com- 
mon servant. Do you think my father intended you to make 
me such V* 

Mrs. Richards regarded the girl in astonishment, while her 
face grew crimson with shame and anger. She knew very well 
that Albert Gladstone had never dreamed that she would de- 
grade his child in any such way. But Albert Gladstone was 
dead, and could not interpose to prevent it. She was obliged 
to curtail just now in some way, and when she found she must 
have this girl in her family, she had decided to dispense with 
the expense of one servant and impose the duties on Star. 

But she had not once imagined that she would dare question 
her right to do with her whatever she saw fit, and she was 
amazed as w*ell as angry at the quiet dignity and independence 
with w'hich she made these statements, and called her to an 
account of her duty to her. 


$TELLA^S APPEAL, 


6l 


don’t know what your father intended^ or what you expect” 
she returned, in cold, precise tones. know that he wrote 
me you would soon be an orphan ; that you had hardly a friend 
in the world, and he would leave you almost a pauper. He 
asked me to superintend your education, so that you would be 
able to earn your own living by and by. I intend to do so ; 
and as you have nothing save your own hands to depend upon 
in the future, I am going to begin by making you useful at 
once. Did you suppose you were going to drop into the lap 
of luxury, and be reared in idleness?” she concluded, with 
biting sarcasm. 

*‘No, marm,” Star returned, respectfully, yet not one whit 
abashed by the way Mrs. Richards had perverted the letter 
which her father had written. am willing to be useful — I 
wish to be useful — I should be unhappy to be idle; but I am 
very unwilling to be made a common drudge, with no time 
nor opportunity to pursue my education. You say I have 
nothing save my hands with which to earn my living. You are 
mistaken ; I have brains, and I intend they shall serve that 
purpose.” 

‘‘It seems to me that you are making a saucy tongue serve 
its purpose pretty early in the day,” retorted Mrs. Richards, an 
angry red leaping into her face. 

“I do not mean the least disrespect in what I have said, 
Mrs. Richards ; but I cannot give up all the hopes and aspira- 
tions which my father has fostered all my life without making 
an effort to accomplish them. I am frank to confess,” Star 
continued, coloring, while her lips quivered slightly, “that 
from your reply to my father’s letter, 1 inferred that I should 
be received into your family as an equal, and that you would 
give me a mother’s care and counsel during the next three or 
four years of my life. Papa, I know, also understood it so, 
and died content, feeling that I should be well and kindly pro- 
vided for. ” 


62 


STELLA^S APPEAL, 


Mrs. Richards felt very uncomfortable, for she knew that 
every word Star uttered was truth. She knew, too, that she was 
doing a mean and cowardly thing in making the bright and 
talented girl a servant ; but she must have a house-maid. If she 
must curtail, she must do it in this way rather than in her own 
or Josephine's wardrobe. 

“You are very impertinent, miss, and have been reared with 
altogether too high notions for one in your position,” she said, 
angrily. “You ought to be thankful for a roof to cover your 
head, and anything to cover your nakedness, coming’ here, as 
you did, destitute of everything. An equal in my family, in- 
deed ! Music, painting, and drawing! What will Josephine 
say to that, I wonder.? And who did you suppose was going 
to foot the bills.? It won't do you any harm to have some of 
this independence taken out of you, and I’ll have you under- 
stand, once for all, that you will fill Maggie Flynn's position in 
this house, or none.” 

Star bowed her proud head coldly. She saw that she was 
helpless for the present, and must yield to the inevitable. 

“ Very well,” she said, calmly. “I understand from Mrs. 
Blunt that Maggie Flynn was about my age; that she had six 
dollars a month besides her board, and two evenings out a 
week. I will consent to fill her place, for the present, upon the 
same conditions.” 

“Upon my word I” exclaimed Mrs. Richards, in a towering 
passion at this unexpected proposition. “I never heard any- 
thing like it in my life I You forget that you are indebted to 
me for the very clothes you have on at this moment.” 

Star could hardly repress a smile at this calculating out- 
break. 

“You have given me the print for two dresses,” she an- 
swered, with ready tact, “the cost of which, with us in Eng- 
land, would be four pence a yard. I have nearly made them 
mys'^-f, but you can deduct whatever you see fit, and I will 


STELLA'S APPEAL. 


63 


attend to my own w'ardrobe in the future. If I do Maggie 
Flynn s work, I must have Maggie Flynns pay and privileges,’’ 
she concluded, decidedly. 

“You will have nothing of the kind” — Mrs. Richards was 
fairly hoarse with anger. “You forget that your father has 
consigned you to my guardianship for the next few years, and 
you will do exactly as I direct you. But we have wasted time 
enough in this kind of talk. You are to come with me now ; 
I will set you to work, and see if we cannot take down some 
of this English impudence.” 

Star folljwed the woman as she was bidden, without a word, 
thinking it best to discuss the question no further just then; 
but there was, nevertheless, a determined gleam in her glorious 
eyes ; her form was as erect and proud, her step as firm as if 
she felt herself in every respect the equal of the woman who 
appeared bound to oppress her. 

All day long she was kept steadily at work ; not a moment 
was she allowed to rest, except while she was eating. She made 
beds, swept and dusted rooms, and ran upon errands, until 
every bone in her slight body ached with weariness and her 
small feet were nearly blistered. 

Her delicate hands had never performed such menial duties 
before, nor had her gentle heart ever throbbed with such 
revengeful, rebellious feelings. 

It was eight o’clock before her hard mistress released her 
from her labors, and told her to go directly to bed, so as to be 
up early in the morning and sweep off the front steps before 
people should begin to pass. 

She went to her room as directed, but instead of retiring, 
she took from a drawer of her bureau one of the packages of 
papers which she had rescued from her state-room on that 
burning vessel, and, weary as she was, she again descended 
two flights of stairs, and approaching the library door, tapped 
gently upon it. 


64 


STELLA'S APPEAL. 


A deep, manly voice bade her come in, and she entered with 
a firm and decided tread. 

Mr. Richards was sitting at his desk, engaged in answering 
some business letters. 

Star had timed her visit to him, for she had watched and 
seen him go into the library after tea was over. 

He looked up as she closed the door behind her, and his face 
relaxed into a kind smile as he saw who it was. 

The girl had interested him in the morning by her beauty, 
grace, and intelligence, but he had been so busy during the day 
that he had scarcely thought of her since. 

He did inquire for her at dinner, but there was company 
present, and his wife made some evasive reply. If the truth 
could have been known, she was rather reluctant to inform him 
what her intentions were regarding the young stranger. 

“Do I interrupt you, sir?’' Star asked, modestly, but with- 
out advancing beyond the threshold. 

“Not at all. Miss Star. Come here and sit down ; I am just 
through," he answered, heartily. 

She went and stood before him. She did not wish to sit 
down; she could say what she intended to tell him better 
standing, she thought. 

“You spoke so kindly to me this morning," she began, 
“that I have ventured to come to you for a little advice this 
evening. " 

“Spoke kindly to you I Why on earth shouldn't I speak 
kindly to you ?" he asked, in surprise. 

Then noticing her pale, weary face, he continued : 

“What under the sun have you been doing to-day? You 
look tired to death. " 

Star tried to smile, but she felt more like dropping her face 
upon her hands and sobbing aloud. 

She controlled herself with an effort, however, and putting 
some of her papers upon the table besjde him, said : 


STELLA^S APPEAL, 


65 


“I have brought you some papers which papa gave me just 
before — ^just before he died'' — a sob would come in spite of her 
then. ‘‘One is a copy of a letter which he wrote to Mrs. 
Richards," she went on, “and there is also her reply. Will 
you kindly read them, and tell me just what you understand 
by them.f^" 

“Certainly, if you wish," he replied, looking a trifle sur- 
prised at her request. 

He motioned her. again to a seat, then opened the letters 
and read them both through 

“I understand," he said, when he had finished them, “from 
your father's letter that, believing he was soon to die, he wished 
to provide a home for you. He states that he has no friends 
or relatives in England with whom he would be willing to trust 
you ; that he has next to nothing to leave you, and begs my 
wife, as the nearest of kin, to assume the care of you and your 
education until you are able to do something for yourself, trust- 
ing to Providence to reward her for her kindness to the orphan. 
He mentions that he feels assured she will do this, since she 
once entertained such tender feelings for his wife for the signal 
service which she once rendered her." 

“ Do you know what that service was ?" Star asked, in a low 
tone. 

“No; I asked Ellen when I read the letter which she re- 
ceived, but she seemed to have forgotten to what he referred. 
Perhaps you know, though?" Mr. Richards concluded, in- 
quiringly. 

Star colored vividly. 

“Yes, sir," she returned, with compressed lips. 

“Well, what was it? I should like to know." 

“My mother was a Miss Chudleigh before her marriage, as 
you doubtless know, and she lived near Halowell Park, in 
Devonshire, where Mrs. Richards was once visiting, and it was 
during that visit that she saved her from drowning." 


66 


STELLA'S APPEAL, 


Whew! Your mother saved my wife from drowning, eh?” 
cried Mr. Richards, in astonishment, and coloring as he remem- 
bered his wife’s indifference upon the topic when he had ques- 
tioned her about it. 

‘‘Yes, sir. Now will you please read Mrs. Richards’ reply 
to my fathers letter, and tell me how you interpret it?” 

Star did not care to dwell upon the subject of her obligation, 
since Mrs. Richards had seen fit to pass it by so lightly. 

'‘I interpret it just as it reads,” he said, after glancing over 
it; ‘‘that she would be very happy to grant your fathers re- 
quest, do her utmost to make a good and useful woman of 
you, and follow out his wishes regarding your future education 
as nearly as she could.” 

*‘Yes, sir, that is the way papa understood it; that is the 
way I understand it,” Star said, rising and standing erect before 
him with a gravity that made him wonder what was coming 
next. 

‘‘My father,” she continued, “as you know, was a clergy- 
man with a very limited income, and he conducted my educa- 
tion himself until he became too weak to do so, therefore I am 
pretty well advanced for one of my years. I have read seven 
books in Virgil, have read two years in French, and am nearly 
through trigonometry, and have read a good deal in history. I 
was studying harmony in music when papa died, besides doing 
a little in painting and drawing. I do not tell you this,” Star 
interposed, with a sad smile, “to boast of what I have done, 
but that you may understand what my feelings are when I tell 
you why I came here to-night. Papa wished me to keep on 
with my Latin, reading Horace and Tacitus, with French, 
music, and history — in fact, he left a written programme for me 
to follow out as nearly as I was able. I am ambitious myself — 
I am hungry for knowledge. I want a thorough education, and 
as I must in the future earn my own living, I know of no way 
so congenial to my feelings as through literary pursuits. Per- 


STELLA^S APPEAL, 


67 


haps I made a mistake in appealing to you just now, but I 
could think of no other way out of my difficulties, for of 
course I am wholly ignorant of the manners and customs of 
this country. I mentioned these things to Mrs. Richards this 
morning '' 

And now Star s voice trembled, and the beating of her heart 
nearly choked her, for she did not know how this man would 
receive her appeal to him against his own wife. 

'‘Well, and what did she say?’' he asked, feeling somewhat 
perplexed over the matter. 

“She told me that I could not go on with my education as 
papa wished ; that — I was to take the place of a girl named 
Maggie Flynn in your family." 

“What!" exclaimed the gentleman, in tones of the most 
emphatic astonishment. 

“Maggie Flynn, I understand," Star went on, gathering 
courage as she noted his surprise, “ was a sort of chamber and 
waiting-maid, and Mrs. Richards says that I am henceforth to 
to perform her duties. I cannot tell you," she continued, 
earnestly, “how repulsive such a life would be to me — to give 
up all my hopes, to forget, in the ceaseless routine of such an 
existence, all that I have already acquired ; and I have come to 
appeal to you — to ask you if you will not try and persuade 
your wife to allow me to continue my studies? I am willing to 
work, and work hard, but I must have some time to improve 
and develop my mind. There are plenty of girls who can be 
employed in my place" — Star did not know of the curtailing 
business — “and who do not care for an education. Papa 
authorized a friend of his to dispose of his library and our 
household goods, and give the proceeds to me, after paying all 
bills. I have a letter of credit to the amount of a hundred 
pounds. I do not know the expense of schooling in this 
country, but could I not be sent to some institution for a year 
or two, and take this money to pay for it? I should be fitted 


63 


A CONSULTATION, 


by the end of that time, I think, to teach, and could relieve 
Mrs. Richards of all responsibility regarding my support.’' 

Mr. Richards’ face was very stern when the young girl con- 
cluded, and Star, looking into it, felt almost frightened at what 
she had done. 

But she reasoned that her situation could not be much worse 
than it already was, and it demanded desperate measures. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A CONSULTATION. 

“What have you been doing to-day.?” Mr. Richards asked, 
in cold, stern tones, after what seemed an interminable pause. 

Stella began to feel almost faint. That hard face, in which 
displeasure was the chief expression, did not look very prom- 
ising for her cause; but she replied : 

“I have done all the chamber- work, swept and dusted five 
rooms, and waited upon Mrs. Richards.” 

“You are not accustomed to such work,” he said, glancing 
at her delicate hands. 

“Not to any such extent, sir. Mamma used to require me 
to take care of the music-room, besides my own, at home, for 
we could keep only one servant, and I know how to sweep, and 
dust, and make beds,” Star concluded, with a slight smile. 

“I should say that you know a good many things for so 
young a lady,” Mr. Richards said, kindly, for he saw that she 
was nervous over what she had been telling him. Then he 
added, more gravely : “I will consult with Mrs. Richards, and 


A CONSUL TA TION 6 9 

I think that we can arrange for you to pursue your education 
as you desire/' 

Star flushed. 

She knew v/ell enough that a mere consultation with Mrs. 
Richards would not secure much for her, and that she would 
be very angry with her for having appealed to her husband, 
and she made up her mind on the spot to make a bold stroke 
for her freedom. 

So meeting his eyes in a frank, fearless way, yet speaking 
with the utmost respect, she said : 

‘ ‘ I feel confident from the conversation which I had with 
Mrs. Richards this morning, that she will be very unwilling to 
make any change in her arrangements, so I will be perfectly 
frank and say to you, that much as I should dislike to take any 
radical steps in opposition to her, or my father s desire that I 
should remain with her, yet I cannot consent to remain here as 
a common servant, with no privileges or time to m}self. I pre- 
sume Mrs. Richards will say that, as she has been appointed 
my guardian, I shall have to do just as she desires. But I have 
read somewhere that when an orphan in this country reaches a 
certain age, he has the privilege of choosing a guardian for 
himself. Rather than be subjected to the fate of becoming a 
second Maggie Flynn," Star continued, her voice gathering 
firmness, ‘‘I shall exercise that privilege. Thank you for listen- 
ing so kindly to my troubles, and I trust I have not wearied 
you. Good-night." 

Without waiting for him to reply, she inclined her head in a 
graceful bow, and quietly glided from the room. 

“By George 1" exploded Mr. Richards, staring blankly after 
her retreating form, “that is what I call spirit. Make a com- 
mon servant of such a girl as that, indeed ! My lady and I will 
talk this matter over, and see — what we shall see." 

Half an hour later he sought an interview with his wife, and 
there followed “a consultation" in earnest. 


70 


A CONSULTATION, 


Mrs. Richards was dumfounded upon being informed of the 
decided stand which her spirited little ward had taken, and her 
indignation in consequence knew no bounds. 

“The impudent little beggar!’' she ejaculated, crimson with 
rage. “ Does she expect to rule me, or balk me like this.^^ She 
will find herself greatly mistaken. I will give her a dose in the 
morning — 'such a dose, ’as Mr. Flintwinch was wont to remark 
to his beloved Affery.” 

“Ellen, you will do no such thing,” her husband returned, 
fitmly. “Have you forgotten Mr. Gladstone’s letter to you and 
your reply to him } When you wrote accepting the guardian- 
ship of his daughter, you did so in a way to lead him to believe 
that you would do your best for her.” 

“And so 1 am doing my best for her,” interrupted his wife. 
“You have talked of nothing but retrenchment for the last six 
months, and I have tried to retrench. I knew the coming of 
this girl would make an extra mouth to feed, so I made up my 
mind to make her useful, and save something if I could.” 

“Well, the child says she is willing to be useful, but you are 
not fulfilling your agreement by making a drudge of her. Mr. 
Gladstone understood that you would give careful attention to 
her education, which he evidently has conducted upon the most 
thorough principles, and he expected that you would fill as far 
as possible his place toward her.” 

“ How do you know what 1 wrote to him } You did not see 
my letter,” demanded Mrs. Richards, angrily. 

“I have seen it to-night. The girl has it, and showed it to 
me; and now I want you to live up to your promises,” replied 
her husband, gravely. 

“She ought to be thankful that she has a roof to shelter 
her. Do you suppose I am going to allow her to interfere with 
Josephine’s rights.?” 

“Certainly not; but this girl is exceedingly bright and 
pretty ; let them become mates and share alike, and Til wager 


A CONSULTATION, 


71 

that Star will never abuse your indulgence,” Mr. Richards said, 
generously. 

‘‘And who may ‘Star' be?” demanded his wife, scornfully. 

“Why, Stella, of course — Star was the name, I suppose, by 
which she was known at home. Now, I insist,” he continued, 
with decision, “that this child be given a fair chance.” 

“ How about retrenchment if you have two fine young ladies 
to support instead of one?” sneered Mrs. Richards. 

“Oh, bother! we'll make it up in some other way. Fll 
sell one of my horses ; you can give up a new gown once in 
awhile.” 

“Not if I know myself, Mr. Richards. I do not intend that 
this girl shall interfere with my comfort in the least degree,” 
interrupted the lady, with a frown. 

“Well, we will manage in some way; but,” he added, be- 
ginning to get out of patience with her selfishness and heartless- 
ness, “I swear, if you won’t promise to treat her considerately, 
and she repudiates you as her guardian, I will get her to choose 
me in your place, and 1 11 treat her like a young princess — send 
her to Vassar, or any other first-class school she may choose, 
regardless of the cost. ” 

“ George Richards,” cried his wife, with flashing eyes, “if 
you take up weapons against me in this way, I never will for- 
give you. ” 

“Can’t help it,” he retorted, coolly. “ I’ll not have that girl 
made a common drudge of in this house while I am master 
here. How you could meditate such a thing for a moment is 
more than I can understand. Where is the gratitude for the 
life which her mother saved for you so many years ago?” 

Mrs. Richards started slightly. She had not intended that 
her husband should ever know of the debt which she owed 
Star’s mother. 

“I suppose she had to twit you of that in order to gain her 
point and make vou her champion,” she said, sarcastically. 


72 


A CONSUL TA TION. 


‘‘No, indeed. I asked her what her father meant by his 
allusion to the service rendered you, and to which he referred 
in his letter, and she told me of course, though in a very modest 
way, that her mother once saved you from drowning. Now, I 
want you to change your tactics. I want you to allow her to 
be one of the family.” 

“ I neutr will do that, Mr. Richards, and it is useless for you 
to suggest it,” Mrs. Richards interrupted, hotly. “I could 
never endure the sight of the girl at my table after this, and 
Josephine, I know, would not consent to it. Any one can see 
by the course she has pursued to-night with you that she is full 
of art and intrigue, and would not hesitate to interfere with 
Josies plans and prospects.” 

“Oh, ho! you're afraid she will outshine Jo, are 3^ou ?” 
laughed her husband, good-naturedly. “I should think one 
would set the other off. Star being so light and Jo so dark, 
and I should really enjoy seeing two pretty girls flitting about 
the house.” 

“I will never put Stella Gladstone on an equal footing with 
my daughter, so you can cease arguing upon that point,” re- 
iterated Mrs. Richards, with a positiveness that was not to be 
mistaken. 

“If you insist,” she continued, after a minutes thought, 
“upon her being allowed to pursue her education, since she 
makes such a parade of being a bookworm, let her ; I will not 
interfere. But I insist, on the other hand, that she make her- 
self useful. She must work about the house before and after 
school, and do something in return for her support — more than 
this I will not concede;” and Mr. Richards, having gained this 
point, considered that he had won quite a victory for his wife’s 
pretty ward. 

“Very well,” he said ; “I presume she will be satisfied with 
this arrangement. She said she was willing to work if she 
might only be allowed to study. ” 


A CONSUL TA TION 


73 


Satisfied or not, it is all the concession that I shall make; 
and mark my words, George, I shall not love her any better for 
this interference on your part,'' his wife said, hotly. 

‘‘Fie, Ellen! I thought you had a warmer heart; and it 
would not sound well outside if it should become known that 
you were making a servant of a relative. It would make quite 
a stir, let me tell you, if she should appeal to the courts to 
have a new guardian appointed," Mr. Richards returned, in a 
conciliatory tone. 

Thus the matter was settled, to Star’s great joy. Mr. Richards 
made arrangements at once for her to enter a select school for 
young ladies, which was located quite near their residence, 
and she began her attendance there the following Monday, 
having passed a most “creditable examination," the principal 
informed her. 

When she was advised of this pleasant change in her life, 
she thanked Mrs. Richards in a few well-chosen words for con- 
senting to it; but the irate woman shut her up instantly by 
saying : 

“You owe me nothing, and I wish the subject never men- 
tioned again in my presence. You will assist about the cham- 
ber-work in the morning before it is time for you to go to 
school, and help Mrs. Blunt with the mending on your return 
in the afternoon. Miss Baker will attend to the provision of 
suitable clothing for you, and you will work with her Saturdays. 
Now we will consider this matter disposed of until such time as 
you may deem your education finished and with this h^rt- 
less speech. Star was summarily dismissed from the august 
matron's presence. 

She was greatly rejoiced with even this ungracious permission 
to pursue her studies, and the hours spent in the school-room 
w'ere a source of great delight to her ; but her position at home 
was anything but agreeable. 

Mr. Richards treated her kindly whenever he chanced to 


74 


A CONSUL TA TION 


meet her, but his wife and daughter ignored her presence when 
they could do so; when they could not, they took pains to 
make her feel her obligations and dependence in the most un- 
comfortable manner. 

With Mrs. Blunt she was comparatively happy, for the woman, 
though brusque' and peculiar, was very kind-hearted, seeming 
to have conceived a great liking for the lonely orphan ; and 
often she would sit up late at night to get the piles of mending 
out of the way, in order that Star — who was studying very hard 
to make up for having entered school in the middle of a term — 
might have more time to herself. 

Miss Baker, the seamstress, too, was very kind to her, and 
her Saturdays were often passed very pleasantly in sewing and 
chatting in the cozy sewing-room. 

She left home at a quarter to nine in the morning, and did 
not return until half-past four in the afternoon, taking a lun- 
cheon and spending the nooning in the school-room. 

This was not done on account of the distance, but because 
the dinner hour at the Richards’ mansion conflicted with the 
school hours. 

By staying at noon thus Star gained an hour’s practice on 
one of the pianos, with no one to interrupt her, and this was a 
season of unalloyed delight to her. Nothing had been said to 
her about continuing her music — Mrs. Richards had vetoed all 
accomplishments on account of the extra expense — but she 
could not give it up, so pursued a course of faithful practice 
by herself. 

Not a moment was wasted. She arose with the dawn, and 
every morning for an hour she might have been seen bending 
over her small table, busily engaged in writing or study. 

All her duties were faithfully performed ; beds had never 
been so well made before, rooms were never so carefully swept 
and dusted, or so tastefully arranged ; and yet one would 


A CONSUL TA TION. 


IS 

scarcely have mistrusted her presence in the house, everything 
was done so quietly and unobtrusively. 

This general exercise, together with her brisk walk before 
and after her school, was very beneficial to her health. She 
grew tall, and round, and rosy, and in beauty every day. 

Saturdays Miss Baker's weary face would brighten as Star sat 
and chatted in a merry, entertaining way, whiling away the long 
hours, her busy fingers often lightening her labors when there 
was no sewing to be done for herself, until she began to love 
the sweet young girl with a deep, warm affection, and to look 
forward to those weekly diversions almost as if they had been 
angels' visits. 

Star waff very tasteful also, and often suggested changes in 
trimming and the arrangement of drapery, thus making great 
improvements in her work, while, in spite of Mrs, Richards’ 
commands that “everything for Miss Gladstone be as plain as 
respectability would allow," she took pains to fit the young girl's 
figure with great nicety, and added many graceful touches to 
her otherwise simple dresses. 

All winter long Star pursued this busy life, improving every 
moment to the best advantage, making every hour count; and 
one morning, getting through her work earlier than usual, she 
might have been seen stealing forth from that elegant mansion 
a half hour before the regular time, her cheeks flushed with 
some inward excitement, her eyes gleaming, yet somewhat 
anxious, and carrying in her hands a goodly sized package 
neatly wrapped in brown paper. 

She took an opposite direction from the usual route to 
school, and walked hurriedly toward the business portion of 
the city. 

At the end of twenty minutes she stopped before the door of 
a large and handsome store, where for a moment she seemed to 
hesitate as if uncertain what to do next. 


76 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


At last, with fluctuating color and trembling hand, she turned 
the handle and entered. 

A little while passed, and then she came forth again, while 
now she appeared pale^and agitated. 

As the door closed after her, she stood still for a moment 
upon the sidewalk, seeming lost in troubled thought ; then a 
tremulous sigh, which was almost a sob, broke from her lips, 
and she turned and walked toward her school. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

RETRENCHMENT. 

Winter passed, spring came and went, and the commence- 
ment exercises of the seminary where Star was attending drew 
nigh. 

The faculty, as was their custom, sent forth cards of invita- 
tion to its patrons, requesting them to be present and see ‘for 
themselves what their children had accomplished during the 
year. 

It chanced this time to fall upon Star's birthday, although 
no one was aware of that fact save herself; but to her it was 
destined to prove an eventful occasion, and one long to be 
remembered. 

Mr. Richards received and opened his invitation with his 
other letters on that very morning, and after glancing over it, 
passed it to his wife. 

She merely looked at it, yawned, and then laid it indiffer- 
ently one side. 

Mr. Richards compressed his lips at this. It did not please 
him that all the young girl's interests should be thus slightingly 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


77 


ignored ; but he said nothing, although his thoughts were busy 
during the remainder of the meal, and as soon as it was com- 
pleted he repaired to his library and rang his bell. 

“Send Miss Gladstone to me,'’ he said to the servant who 
answered his summons. 

Star received the command, wondering what it meant, and 
went down, with some trepidation, to obey it. 

She was almost like an alien in that house, living so apart 
from the family, and so rarely encountering any of them ; but 
she possessed a sunny, even disposition, and although she often 
grieved over the neglect she experienced, and yearned for love 
and sympathy, yet she would not allow herself to brood over it ; 
thus she was always sweet and genial in her temperament. 

As she entered the library this morning, Mr. Richards looked 
up and smiled with pleasure. 

She was so fresh, and bright, and lovely that it was a delight 
to look upon her. 

‘ ‘ I have received a card for the closing exercises of your 
school to-day," he said, pleasantly. “I think I should like to 
attend, if I can make it convenient. How have you been pro- 
gressing.?" 

“Professor Roberts has been kind enough to say that I have 
done very well. You know I did not enter until nearly the 
middle of the second term," Star modestly replied, while her 
cheeks glowed and her eyes shone with pleasure that he should 
manifest this interest in her welfare. 

“Do you have any particular part in the exercises to-day?" 
he questioned. 

“Yes, sir. I have a programme here in my pocket; per- 
haps you would like to see it?" and she drew it forth, laying it 
upon the table before him. 

He glanced over it, and, third upon the list, he saw : 

“Music, instrumental, by Miss Stella Gladstone." 

Further down he read : 


78 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


Essay, by Miss Stella Gladstone. Subject: ^ Walls Must 
Get the Weather-stain Before They Grow the Ivy.'"' 

He looked up at her with some surprise. 

‘‘Did you choose the subject of your essay.?*'' he asked. 

“Yes, sir." 

“Why did you take such a topic?" 

“I do not know, sir," Star answered, thoughtfully. “I read 
the line somewhere one day ; it haunted me continually, until 
I wrote out some thoughts upon it, as I often do upon different 
subjects. Professor P.oberts found them between the leaves of 
my Horace one day, and liked them so well that he asked me 
to elaborate and extend them, and read it as an essay to-day. 
He always has two or three essays from members of the junior 
class read upon commencement day." 

Mr. Richards had been looking her over critically while she 
was speaking. 

She was clad in a gown of some light gray material, made 
very plainly, but fitting her graceful figure to perfection. Simple 
bands of linen were just visible at her throat and wrists, while a 
knot of pale blue ribbon fastened her collar. 

She looked lovely. She would have been so in anything ; 
but he saw that her toilet was hardly befitting the ward of his 
wife. 

“Girls for commencement always have a new dress, don’t 
they?" he asked. “Have you made any arrangements of the 
kind?" 

“No, sir; I shall go just as I am. This is the best that 
I have," she returned, glancing down at her dress and flushing 
slightly. 

“ How much time have you before the exercises begin?" he 
inquired. 

“An hour or more," she said, looking up at the clock on 
the mantel “I am ready very early," she added, smiling, “for 
I wished to look over my essay before reading it." 


RE TRENCHMENT, 


79 


Mr. Richards looked grave. He remembered how Josephine 
had been all “fuss and feathers'' at every commencement, and 
here this lovely girl was going to appear before a crowded hall 
in a dress which his daughter would not have worn in her own 
private room. 

“If you will step around to Hunt & Co.'s with me, you 
shall have one of those pretty summer silks that they are adver- 
tising so extensively. I should be gratified to have you as well 
dressed as your classmates, and I fear that your needs have been 
neglected in this respect," he remarked, with a slight frown. 

Star flushed scarlet now. 

She had wished — oh, so earnestly! — that morning that she 
could have something dainty to wear, and she had sighed regret- 
fully as she thought of all her pretty clothes lying at the bottom 
of the ocean, for they had been prettily made, although they 
were of inexpensive material ; and she had heard the girls talk- 
ing of the new dresses which were being made for them. But 
when her toilet was completed and she looked in the glass, she 
felt that, notwithstanding the disadvantage of her apparel, there 
was at least a distinguished air about her which bespoke the 
true lady, and she was comforted. 

“Thank you," she answered, quietly, while the color slowly 
receded from her brew and cheeks; “you are very kind to 
suggest it, but, if you please, I prefer to go as I am. I shall 
be gratified," she added, dropping the proud ring out of her 
voice, “if you feel sufficiently interested to attend the exercises 
to-day, and I will endeavor to show you that I have tried to 
improve the advantages that you have given me." 

“ I should be willing to take your word for it," Mr. Richards ' 
said, heartily, “but I will come and see for myself." 

Star looked pleased at this assurance, and then, giving him a 
friendly little bow and smile, went away with a light heart. 

“By George! she’ll make a woman to be proud of, or — or 
‘Tm much mistaken,' as Mrs. Blunt would remark. She has 


8o 


RE TRENCHMENT, 


spirit, too, and is bound to stand on her own merits. There 
are not many girls who would have refused the offer of a pretty 
new dress for such an occasion. Fll go over to the seminary 
and see what she has been doing. '' 

When Mr. Richards entered the hall of the seminary, he 
found it crowded to overflowing with spectators, anxious friends, 
and fond parents. 

He gradually worked his way forward toward the platform, 
for he was determined to hear Star's essay, if possible, and 
finally took his stand beside a piece of statuary and near an 
open window, where he could have air and yet command a 
good view of all the exercises. 

Almost at the same moment a slight, willowy figure, clad in 
light gray, with a fair, delicate face, deep blue eyes, scarlet lips, 
and a wealth of golden hair, glided noiselessly to the piano on 
the platform, sat down, and after running her fingers nimbly 
over the keys for a moment or two, dashed off into a brilliant 
and difficult sonata. 

It was executed apparently without a mistake from begin- 
ning to end, and without notes, and when it was finished the 
fair performer retired from the instrument amid enthusiastic 
applause. 

Mr. Richards was astounded. 

He had expected some simple melody, passably performed. 
She had told him, in her modest way, that she had given some 
attention to music, but he had not imagined that she was as 
proficient as this, and he could not understand how she had 
kept up her practice, with no instruction, and no permission to 
use the piano at home. 

He did not know of that hour at noon, nor the odd minutes, 
when other girls were chattering away at recess time, that Star 
had diligently given to this science which she so dearly loved. 

He was no less astounded during the reading of her essay. 

When it was announced, she came quietly forward with 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


8l 


graceful self-possession, and unfolding the roll of manuscript 
which she carried in her hand, read in sweet, yet clear tones, 
a production which held her listeners spell-bound from begin- 
ning to end. 

She must have woven something of her own heart history 
into it, he thought, for two or three times the tears welled un- 
bidden to his eyes at the pathos which those smoothly rounded 
sentences contained. 

It seemed as if Star s efforts were more highly appreciated 
than any other portion of the exercises. Even the valedictory, 
from a member of the senior class, although well written and 
to the point, was not listened to with such breathless attention. 

At the conclusion of the programme, the diplomas were 
awarded to the graduating class, and then the professor said he 
would read the names of those who had passed their examina- 
tion and were to be promoted from the other classes. There 
were two young ladies, he said, who were entitled to a double 
promotion, having accomplished the work of a year in about 
six months, which was, to say the least, a very unusual and 
laudable circumstance. 

The names of those entitled to this were Miss Stella Glad- 
stone and Miss Grace Turnbull, and they would, upon the be- 
ginning of the fall term, take their places in the senior class. 

As the people flocked by him out of the hall, Mr. Richards 
heard Star s praises on every side, and inwardly vowed that the 
girl should have every chance in the future. 

He made his way toward the platform, intending to speak 
with and congratulate her upon her success; but just before 
he reached her another gentleman approached her, and after 
shaking hands in the most cordial manner with her, gave her 
a small package, and bending down, whispered a few words in 
her ear. 

He could not understand the expression of mingled surprise 
and joy which for a moment absolutely glorified her fair face as 


82 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


she received the package ; then the tears sprang to her eyes, as, 
with tremulous lips, she appeared to be thanking the giver. 

The gentleman chatted a few moments longer with her, then 
put out his hand for the roll of manuscript which she still held, 
while he smilingly asked her for it. 

Star hesitated about giving it to him, while a lovely color 
suifused her face; then, with a shy movement, she laid it in 
his palm. 

He ’•eceived it with a brilliant smile, bowed gracefully to her, 
and then left her. 

Mr. k chards now approached her, and taking her hand, 
said, almost affectionately : 

‘‘Star, you have shone effulgently to-day, and I am proud 
of you.” 

It would not have been in human nature to have prevented 
the little gleam of triumph which -flashed from her eyes at this 
tribute to her talents, but she said, gratefully; 

“Thank you, sir; but I owe my success all to you.” 

“Not a bit of it,” he returned, with some emotion; “you 
owe it to yourself alone; but I will take care that you do not 
thank me for nothing at the close of another year.” 

Star wondered what he meant, but she did not question him, 
and her heart was lighter than it had been before, since she 
crossed the ocean, as he led her from the building and walked 
home with her. 

But he noticed all the way that there was a nervous tremor 
about her, while she was unusually absent-minded and silent 

“Who was that gentleman who came and spoke to you at 
the close of the exercises.?” he asked, just before they reached 
home. 

Star glanced up with a start 

“His name is Appleton,” she answered, and pretended not 
to notice that his eyes were resting curiously upon the package 
which he had given her. 


RETRENCHMENT, 83 

When they entered the house, Star ascended to her own 
room, while Mr. Richards sought his wife. 

He found her and Josephine together in the drawing-room, 
and, for a wonder, no callers with them. 

He informed them where he had been, and also of the bril- 
liant appearance which Star had made before the public. 

Both mother and daughter sneered audibly at his account, 
and this aroused his indignation. 

His eyes began to blaze, and his wife sobered instantly; she 
always recognized and dreaded this dangerous symptom. 

“You are a couple of selfish, heartless women,'' he began; 
“and now, let me tell you, you have got to turn over a new 
leaf, or there will be trouble in the camp. That girl, whom 
you have so despised and tried to degrade ever since she came 
into the house, has wonderful talent — talent of which any one 
might be proud. She is rightly named, for she certainly shone 
like a star of the first magnitude to-day. Her essay was superior 
to anything produced there, and her performance upon the 
piano something wonderful for one so young and possessing so 
few advantages." 

“Oh, papa, you don't mean to say that she can play the 
piano! Tm sure she has never touched this one since she 
came here, and no one can play well without constant practice," 
asserted Miss Josephine, with a toss of her dark head, for she 
was accounted a good musician. 

“You don't believe what I tell you, then," her father said, 
frowning. 

“Well, I think you must have overestimated her talent in 
that direction," the girl answered. 

Mr. Richards did not reply, but walked to the bell-rope and 
gave it a pull. 

“Go and say to Miss Gladstone that I would like to see 
her in the drawing-room," he said to the servant who opened 
the door. 


84 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


“Really, Mr. Richards,*' interrupted his wife, with severe 
dignity; but he stopped her short with a motion of his hand. 

“Go!*' he repeated to the servant, who had hesitated as she 
spoke, and then he turned again to her. 

“I want you to understand," he said, “something of the 
wrong which you have been doing this child, and now I am 
going to ask her to play to you. I desire that you treat her 
civilly, too, when she comes down. She should have been 
received here as one of us — I regret that I did not insist upon 
it in the beginning — she should have been on an equal footing 
with Josie, enjoying the same advantages, and receiving sym- 
pathy and encouragement instead of — well, it’s no use fretting 
over it now; but, by Jove ! I’ll make it up to her in the future. 
Hark ! she is coming, and now I’ll have no sneers or sour 
looks,’’ he concluded, as the door handle turned. 

Star entered at this moment, and seeing the whole family 
assembled, looked somewhat surprised; but Mr. Richards ap- 
proached her, saying, quietly : 

“I have sent for you to ask if you will play again for us 
what you played at the hall to-day T 

Star glanced at the two ladies, but their attitude was not 
encouraging. 

Mrs. Richards was the personification of dignified indiffer- 
ence, while Miss Josephine sat looking out of a window, and 
partially concealed by its drapery. 

She saw that she was wholly indebted to Mr. Richards for 
this opportunity of displaying her talent, and that they were 
evidently somewhat doubtful as to her ability to do what he 
claimed for her; therefore her fingers began to tingle to do 
their very best. 

“Certainly; I shall be pleased to play for you if you desire 
it," she said, as she walked quietly and unassumingly to the 
piano and sat down. 

She had not struck a dozen notes before she had the un- 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


85 


divided attention of every listener; and when she had con- 
cluded, two of the little company were quivering with jealous 
anger. 

Josephine had the name of being a good musician, but both 
she and her mother could plainly perceive that she had not a 
tithe of the talent that the fair, despised girl, of whom they had 
tried to make a common servant, possessed. 

“Play something else, please,'’ Mr. Richards said, when she 
had finished the sonata which she had played at school ; and, 
without a word, her slender fingers went sweeping through one 
of Mendelssohn's ^'Romances sans Paroles'' in the most intoxi- 
cating manner imaginable, and her new admirer, with a look 
of pardonable triumph, thanked her most warmly when she 
concluded. 

She quietly left the room, although she felt assured that a 
storm was ready to burst as soon as she should be beyond hear- 
ing; the very atmosphere was heavy with it. 

She was right in her conjecture, for no sooner was the door 
closed behind her than Mrs. Richards' tongue was loosed, and 
she broke forth in a torrent of wrath. 

“Well, George Richards, I suppose you imagine that you 
have done something wonderful in bringing that girl here and 
showing her off to us; but you will find that you have made a 
mistake. It is very praiseworthy, indeed, to seek to humiliate 
one's own daughter, and I should suppose you would feel very 
proud of such an achievement. Where is your self-respect, that 
you bring a beggar in here and set her up as a reproach to your 
wife? I will not stand it, sir — I tell you I will not stand it! 
Things are come to a pretty pass, I should say, if our domestic 
peace is to be destroyed by that insignificant chit, and I was a 
fool ever to consent to her coming here." 

This and much more of the same kind the angry woman 
poured forth in a perfect volley. 


86 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


Mr. Richards listened with quiet gravity to the tirade, and 
when she had concluded, he quietly remarked : 

“Well, Ellen, now that you are through, we'll say that its 
my turn. You might just as well make up your mind to be 
reasonable first as last, for mine is settled upon one thing — 
Star Gladstone has done the last day s work in this house that she 
ever will do! She is to have her time entirely to herself until 
she graduates, a year hence. I shall offer to allow her to pur- 
sue music, and painting if she desires, during the long vaca- 
tion just at hand, giving her the best of masters which New 
York affords, and spare no reasonable expense to make her the 
accomplished woman that I think she is capable of becoming. 
You promised all this to her father ; he sent her to you with the 
belief that she would enjoy these advantages until she was 
fitted to become a teacher, and she shall have them. Now, one 
thing more — and you know that when I get aroused to this 
pitch I mean wEat I say — if I find that you or Jo are making 
her unhappy at any time. I'll put her into the most genteel 
boarding-house in the city, out of your reach. As for ‘domestic 
peace,' about which you twit me, I believe I love my family 
better than the average of men, and am not in the habit of 
stirring up strife ; so it will rest with you to keep the peace." 

Mr. Richards did not wait for any rejoinder to this plain 
speaking, but left the room, and finding Star out upon the bal- 
cony leading from the dining-room, he told her that he had 
decided to let her take up music and painting during the vaca- 
tion if she wished. 

He felt amply repaid for his efforts on her behalf on seeing 
the look of joy which flashed over her face, while her voice 
thrilled with earnestness as she replied : 

“Oh, sir, I ought to be the happiest girl in Brooklyn to 
have so much of good come to me on this, my seventeenth 
birthday !" 

“Is this your birthday?" he asked, with a feeling of self- 


J^E TRENCHMENT. 


87 


reproach that it should have come and nearly gone with no 
token of remembrance, while he glanced over her meager attire 
and marked the absence of all jewelry or trinkets such as young 
girls ‘love, for she wore nothing of the kind save a dainty cameo 
head fastened to the knot of ribbon at her throat. 

** Yes, sir; and it is one which I shall always remember with 
great pleasure,"' she said, with a tremulous smile that he did 
not then understand. ‘‘ I thank you," she added, ‘‘for allow- 
ing me to go on with my music, and I will be very faithful in 
improving my opportunity; but — I think, if you please, I will 
not mind about the painting at present. I am very fond of it, 
but — I " 

“Very well; do as you choose," he said, as he saw she was 
somewhat embarrassed. “You are to have all the advantages 
you desire during the next year, and you are to do no more 
work of any kind in this house " 

“Oh, but I like to work about the house," she began, 
eagerly ; but he stopped her authoritatively. 

“No; I will not have it. You need all the time you can 
get for study and practice. Maggie Flynn, or some other 
Maggie, shall come back as chamber and waiting-maid, and 
you are to remember it is my command that you do nothing 
of the kind. If you have any spare time, use it in making the 
pretty things which young ladies of your age like so much. 
Here is something to begin upon, and I will allow you the 
same amount every month ;" and he tucked a bill of no mean 
denomination into her hand as he concluded. 

He did not wait to hear her thanks, but turned abruptly 
away, feeling very tenderly toward this sweet young maiden, 
who had lived such an isolated, neglected life in the midst of 
that household of luxury. 

Star looked after him with a glorified face. 

“Oh, what a birthday!" she said, as she went up stairs and 
shut herself into her room. 


88 


RE TRENCHMENT. 


She folded that precious bill — mere money than she had ever 
possessed before at one time— for “pretty things/' and laid it 
safely away in a drawer ; then she took up a handsomely bound 
book that lay on her table. 

“A red-letter day \” she murmured. “ My success — my pro- 
motion — his kindness, and, above all, this beautiful book — it 
all seems to be too lovely to be real." 

She raised the volume and softly touched her lips to it; 
then bowing her golden head, her heart overcharged with its 
unaccustomed weight of happiness, found relief in a shower 
of tears. 

“The book" was the package, devoid of its wrapper, which 
the strange gentleman had given her in the presence of Mr. 
Richards. 

* ♦ 

The next morning's papers contained an interesting account 

of the commencement exercises of Seminary, together 

with a copy in full of Miss Stella Gladstone’s essay, and speak- 
ing in very flattering terms of its excellence as a literary pro- 
duction. 

Another important event occurred that morning. 

One of Mr. Richards' driving horses was sold, and his wife, 
upon learning of the circumstance, lifted up her hands and 
scornfully exclaimed : 

“Retrenchment!" 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE, 


89 


CHAPTER IX. 

CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 

A few mornings after Star s emancipation from her duties as 
a servant, she encountered, as she was coming down stairs to 
her breakfast, Josephine, who was also on her way to the 
dining-room. 

“Well, I suppose you feel mighty set up over the fine show 
you made of yourself the other day,'" that young lady remarked, 
sneeringly. 

“ I had no de.Tre to make a *show,' as you express it,’' Star 
answered^ courteously, and ignoring her companion s rudeness. 
“But it is always pleasant to receive thanks when one has tried 
to do one’s best.” 

“Thanks!” was the scornful rejoinder. “You have been 
very sly about it all ; and I should think you’d feel mean 
enough about wheedling papa into giving you music and paint- 
ing lessons.” 

“ I have never asked Mr. Richards for either, and — I am not 
going to take painting lessons at all,” Star said, with scarlet 
cheeks. 

“You needn’t try to make me think papa would ever have 
made such a row if you hadn’t* been at him and pretended to 
be so abused and ill-treated. But — where did you get that 
lovely cameo that you wore in that knot at your throat?” Jose- 
phine asked, her eyes having been sharp enough to detect the 
pretty trinket. 

“ It was given to me by a friend,” the young girl answered, 
with trembling lips, for she was cut to the heart by the unjust 
accusations heaped upon her. 


90 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 


‘‘Some one must have liked to fool away money pretty well, 
to give you an elegant trifle like that,'’ the rude girl said, for 
she had known that it was valuable at a glance. “It doesn’t 
correspond with the rest of your wardrobe,” she continued, 
jeeringly ; “you’d better give it to me.” 

Star looked up into the bold, handsome face beside her with 
astonishment. 

“ I cannot give it to you,” she said, with compressed lips. 

“Well, lend it to me, then.” 

She was loaded with jewelry, early as it was in the day. She 
wore a heavy gold chain, from which was suspended a blue 
enameled locket set with pearls and diamonds ; heavy jewels 
hung in her ears, broad bands of gold clasped her wrists, 
while her fingers gleamed with numerous costly gems ; and 
here she was coveting the single ornament which she had seen 
Star wear. 

“ I do not like to appear disobliging,” she returned, “but 
there are reasons why I do not even like to lend it.” 

“What reasons, pray, can you have for refusing so simple a 
request?” Josephine persisted. 

“I have told you — it is the gift of a friend. I do not like 
to part with it.” 

“I will give you this handsome emerald for it,” said the 
spoilt beauty, turning a valuable ring upon her finger. 

“Thank you. No; I could not make the exchange.” 

“Nonsense! You’re stuffy enough, I hope,” the refined 
young lady retorted ; and, with lowering brow, she turned im- 
patiently away, and went into the dining-room. 

An hour later, while Star was busily practicing, she stole 
slyly into her room and pounced greedily upon the coveted 
little treasure, which w^as stuck into a dainty pincushion made 
of bits of silk and covered with an embroidered lace tidy, all 
the work of the little maiden’s skillful fingers. 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 


91 

‘‘I was hound to have it/' the unprincipled girl said, triumph- 
antly, as she examined it closely. 

“It is lovely; the most delicately carved cameo that I ever 
saw, and, for a little thing, must have cost no mean sum. Ah ! 
it is marked on the back of the setting," she continued, turn- 
ing it over. “A. S. and two tiny strawberry leaves underneath. 
I wonder who ‘A. S.' is, or — was.*^ What a lovely ring it would 
make." 

She lifted the skirt to her basque and deliberately pinned it 
upon the lining, an evil look in her brilliant eyes. 

“I’ll capture it for awhile, just to torment her for her pre- 
sumption in trying to outshine me before papa the other day. 
The little minx ! she is altogether too high-headed and airy to 
suit me." 

This important matter disposed of, she began to look about 
Star’s room with some curiosity. 

To begin with, it was exquisitely neat and clean, and the 
utmost had been made of the small and meagerly furnished 
apartment. A sheet had been ripped in halves, gathered across 
the one window, and then looped on either side with broad 
bands and bows of light blue cambric. A corner bracket, 
brought to light from among some rubbish in the store-room, 
had been covered with blue cambric, and over this hung a 
daintily ruffled curtain of dotted muslin, while upon the shelf 
were arranged Star’s few books and a small vase filled with 
flowers. This last-mentioned object had been a gift from Mrs. 
Blunt at Christmas — her only remembrance on that day. 

The small table was covered with a spotless towel having a 
blue border — more of Mrs. Blunt’s thoughtfulness — and there 
was a bright strip of carpeting before the bed, which was cov- 
ered with a cheap but immaculate spread. Upon the bureau 
another towel was laid, and on this Star’s few toilet articles were 
arranged with the utmost care. 

Josephine opened and curiously peeped into the drawers. 


92 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE, 


In one there was a ver)' limited supply of clean, neatly folded 
clothing; in another two or three handkerchiefs, as many col- 
lars, a ribbon or two, a small wooden box which was locked, 
and a worn portfolio— ^another trophy from the store-room — 
which was also locked and no key visible. 

‘‘I wonder what is in this?’’ Josephine said, taking up the 
box and shaking it, to ascertain, if possible, its contents. 

They appeared to be somewhat heavy, and to be wrapped 
about with cotton cr a napkin, and she was forced to put it 
down, her curiosity ungratified. It was the same with the port- 
folio, and, with a frown of disappointment, she returned this 
also to its place. 

There was very little to attract any one in the little maiden’s 
bower, and yet it had a cozy, home-like air about it; but her 
scant wardrobe, as Josephine opened the closet door to look 
within, appeared very mean in the petted and indulged beauty’s 
eyes; and, indeed, it compared very unfavorably with the pretty 
outfit which had gone down on the ill-fated vessel on which 
Star had sailed. 

“It is a mystery to me how she manages always to look so 
nice with these few traps,” Miss Richards muttered, as she 
shut the door with a sign of disgust and turned to leave the 
room. 

“ Ha! what have w^e here?” she cried, as she caught sight of 
anew, prettily bound book lying on the small table. “Oh, 
this is that new' novel that I heard Charlie Carpenter raving 
about the other evening. I wonder where she got it. I think 
I’ll appropriate it myself ; it looks inviting,” she added, slipping 
the leaves through her fingers. 

“Chatsworths Pride,” she continued, turning to the title 
page. “ I should like to know' who wrote it ; but the author’s 
name is not given. However, I’ll read it, and see if it is as 
wonderful as Charlie said.” 

It was not a large book, and dropping it into her pocket, this 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE, 


93 


“Paul Pry” in petticoats stole from Star's little bower and 
glided unobserved to her own room, having accomplished her 
object in securing the coveted cameo, and vented her spite 
upon the offending girl for having daied to outshine her in the 
presence of her father. 

Later, when Star went up to her little sanctum and found 
both pin and book gone, she surmised at once who had been 
there. 

The loss of the book she did not mind so much, although 
she was reading it and had been obliged to lay it aside in the 
midst of a most interesting chapter; while she knew that when 
Josephine had read it she would doubtless throw it one side, 
and she could easily get it again. But to lose the cameo —that 
precious gift of kind, handsome Archibald Sherbrooke — was 
more than she could bear with either patience or fortitude, and 
a passion of tears testified to her grief for her loss. 

She knew that it would be useless to appeal to Josephine for 
it ; she could not prove that she had taken it, and she would 
doubtless feign astonishment and innocence if questioned re- 
garding it, and unless she could regain possession of it by 
strategy, it was, she feared, lost to her forever. 

A week subsequently the family repaired to their country 
residence at Yonkers, where they usually spent the hot months, 
excepting a few weeks' sojourn at some fashionable watering- 
place or mountain resort. 

Here Star, who had been told that she was to have the use 
of the music-room whenever she wished, began her work in 
earnest, and gave six hours a day to hard, faithful practice. 

Wednesdays and Saturdays, however, she went into New York 
to take her lesson, Mr. Richards having arranged with one of 
the first teachers for her instruction. In spite of Mr. Richards' 
commands to the contrary, she persisted in doing many little 
things to assist Mrs. Blunt, although she was relieved from all 


94 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 


regular duty. The housekeeper often demurred when Star 
offered her services. 

“ You shall not spoil your hands, child,'' she would say, with 
a fond glance at those delicate members ; “I can get along as 
well alone now as I used to, or Tm much mistaken." 

“Never mind my hands, Mrs. Blunt; I can't practice all 
the time, and I must have some exercise. It is a pleasant 
change for me to help you once in awhile, and have a little 
cozy chat," Star answered, heartily; and the woman, who, to 
say the least, did not have either an easy or pleasant time her- 
self, was often beguiled into allowing her to have her own way, 
and was cheered in no small degree by her suniry face and gay 
chatter. 

“That girl'll make her mark in the world, bless her heart! 
She’ll make a better and smarter woman than Miss Josephine, 
or I’m much mistaken," she was wont to remark forty times a 
month to the cook, and she grew to love our gentle Star with 
an almost motherly affection. 

When not attending to her music. Star spent most of the 
time in her own room, and no one questioned as to how she 
occupied it ; and although she continued to be ignored by the 
family when it was possible to do so, and snubbed and sneered 
at when it was not, she was comparatively happy, knowing that 
every day well spent was helping her on toward emancipation 
and independence. 

One day Mr. Richards came home with a very grave face, 
and sought an audience with his wife. 

“I have a letter from your Uncle Jacob here," he said, draw- 
ing one from his pocket as he spoke. 

Mrs. Richards' face lighted instantly. 

“From Uncle Jacob? That is good news. Has he re- 
turned ?" 

“Yes." 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE, 


95 

How is the dear old man, and when is he coming to make 
us a visit?” she asked, with animation. 

‘‘ He is not at all well — has been having serious trouble with 
his head and eyes. He returned last fall, and since then has 
been visiting your brother in the West. Listen, and I will 
read you what he says : 

‘My Dear George : — You see by the heading of this that the wan- 
derer has returned — yes, and returned to wander no more. I cannot write 
much, for I am not able to do so. I returned from abroad last fall, since 
when I have been with Henry, and now propose to go East and visit or 
make my future home with you, as you have so often pressed me to do. I 
know you will heartily sympathize with me when I tell you that the 
steamer on which I sailed was wrecked, and all I had was lost. I regret 
to come to you, as I shall, almost penniless, and in this broken state; but 
you have so often told me that there would always be “ a warm corner in 
your home ” for me, that I am going to take you at your word. I shall 
not wait for a reply to this, but follow almost immediately, for I know I 
shall meet with a hearty welcome.’ ” 

Then followed a few affectionate sentences for each member 
of the family, but Mrs. Richards scarce heeded them. 

‘‘It can’t be possible that Uncle Jacob has lost all his 
property!” she cried, aghast. “Why, the last we heard he was 
worth a million !” 

“ I know; but in these days it does not take long to lose a 
million,” her husband replied, gravely, adding: “It is a mis- 
fortune, indeed, for the old man ; but we will do the best we 
can for him, allowing him to feel it as little as possible. He 
will feel it, however, for he was, as I remember him, a very 
high-spirited, independent man.” 

Mrs. Richards' face was crimson from mingled emotions. 

“It is a shame!” she cried, angrily. “Uncle Jacob always 
gave Henry and me to understand that we should be his heirs ; 
and now we have to lose half a million apiece. How under the 
sun do you suppose he lost it?” 

“I have no idea — some speculation, doubtless.” 


96 


CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 


“ It appears that he expects to be taken care of in his old 
age just the same as if he were the Croesus we have always sup- 
posed him to he,” Mrs. Richards said, wrathfully. 

“He has a right to expect it,'' her husband replied, with 
some sternness; “you have always professed the deepest affec- 
tion for him, and urged him to make his home with you. 
Who should take care of him in his misfortune if not his only 
brother’s children 

“ Henry is as well able to have him as I am, and I don’t see 
why he could not have staid there." 

“Perhaps he was no more welcome there than it appears he 
will be here," Mr. Richards remarked, sarcastically. 

“Well, I’m not going to have him here, and there's an end 
of the matter. I shall post him right back to Henry. His wife 
does not have half the care that I do, socially. We might as 
well open a hospital for the lame, the blind, the halt, and beg- 
gars generally." 

“lam astonished to hear you speak thus, Ellen, and of your 
own relatives, too, especially after all your flattering protesta- 
tions. Of course we will receive your uncle kindly, and show 
him all proper attention. " 

“ I will not” his wife retorted, angrily. “I may as well set 
my foot down first as last; he shall not come here to be a 
burden upon us. You have had your way about Stella; now 
I’ll have mine in this matter. One beggar in the house is 
enough." 

“Ellen, hew you are changed ! When I first knew you, you 
were sweet-tempered and kind. I believe your life of unlimited 
indulgence and luxury has soured and hardened you," Mr. 
Richards said, with a regretful sigh for the early days of his 
married life, when his wife was loving and lovable. 

“Thank you; your compliments are not of a particularly 
‘sweet' nature," she answered, scornfully. 

“Your uncle says he shall follow his letter immediately; he 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 


97 

may arrive at any hour. What shall we do with him asked 
Mr. Richards, taking no notice of her sarcasm. 

“I don't know — I don't care. Tell him that the house is 
full of company — anything you please; only mind, I will not 
be burdened with a half blind, decrepit old man and the ex- 
cited woman flounced angrily from the room, leaving her hus- 
band sitting alone in sad and troubled thought. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 

Ou the very evening of the day of that spirited discussion 
between Mr. and Mrs. Richards regarding the coming of the 
latter's uncle, a railway carriage stopped before the door of their 
mansion, and an old man alighted. 

He was dusty and travel-stained ; his hair and beard were 
white as snow; his clothing — a common business suit — con- 
siderably the worse for the wear ; while he wore a dark-green 
visor or shade over his eyes, and appeared both weary and 
feeble. 

He inquired of the servant who answered his ring for Mrs. 
Richards, and was told in an indilferent, almost impudent, 
manner that she was ''engaged.'' 

“Humph 1" ejaculated the visitor, lifting the green shade and 
giving the man a keen look ; “where is your master?" 

“In the library," was the rather more respectful answer. 

“Show me the way there," commanded the stranger, authori- 
tatively ; and the servant turned with a subdued air to obey 
him, recognizing at once his superior in spite of the travel - 
stained, shabby clothing. 


98 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 


Mr. Richards received his wife’s relative with every appear- 
ance of cordiality, although there was a restraint in his manner 
which could be felt rather than explained. 

^‘Ah, Uncle Jacob he said, as he shook him by the hand 
and took his hat from him; ‘‘we hardly thought you could 
arrive quite so soon. I should have looked for you to-morrow, 
however. Sit down — sit down ; and, John,'' turning to the man 
who had shown him in, “tell Mrs. Blunt to fix up a nice little 
supper and send it in here on a tray. " 

“Don't put yourself out, George; anything will do for to- 
night. I am more tired than hungry," the old man said, sink- 
ing into a luxurious chair with a weary sigh, and removing the 
green shade entirely from his eyes. 

Mr. Richards fidgeted and looked uneasy. 

He knew that there was not a room in the house that his 
wife would give up; every one had been arranged for company 
who were expected or had already arrived, and he was at his 
wits' end to know what to do with him. 

“Uncle Jacob" poor and ill was an entirely different char- 
acter from “Uncle Jacob" rich and prosperous. 

But he sat chatting socially with him until Mrs. Blunt ap- 
peared with a tray and served a tempting little meal, which the 
old gentleman ate with evident relish. 

“I was more hungry than I thought," he said, when at 
length he had finished his second cup of tea, eaten the leg of a 
chicken and a couple of rolls. “Now, if you please, I should 
like to be shown to my room, for I have traveled a long dis- 
tance to-day. But — where is Ellen ? I should like to exchange 
greetings with her before I go." 

“Ahem !" began Mr. Richards, feeling extremely uncomfort- 
able. “Ellen has a house full of company to-night; if you 
could excuse her, and wait until to-morrow " 

“Certainly — certainly," the old man said, hastily, but in a 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 


99 

disappointed tone; for his niece had always been the first to 
greet him and express her delight at his coming heretofore. 

‘'And/' continued his host, growing very red in the face, 
“I am very sorry, but — every room in the house is taken. 
Would you mind sleeping at the lodge until we can make a 
place for you.?^” 

The old gentleman bent a keen glance upon the speaker 
at this. 

He saw his embarrassment, marked his averted eye and 
shamefaced air, and mistrusted something of its cause. 

“Sleep at the lodge.?" he repeated, in a peculiar tone. “Oh, 
no ; I’ve just come from Henry’s, where I slept over the stable. 
They had a ‘house full of company,’ too. Is the lodge far from 
here? You know I’ve never been in this house before.’’ 

“About two minutes’ walk; I will go with you and see that 
you are made comfortable. It is too bad that things should 
happen so,’’ Mr. Richards said, with real regret as he saw how 
weary the traveler was, and he had half a mind to ring and 
command that he be shown into one of the guest chambers in 
spite of his wife’s objections. 

“Never mind, George; I shall sleep just as well there as 
here, no doubt,’’ and he arose as if anxious to get away. 

“Where is your baggage? I will attend to having what you 
need sent down,’’ Mr. Richards remarked, as he took up his 
hat to accompany him. 

“I have nothing but a small valise,’’ was the reply. “You 
know I wrote you that I had been very unfortunate. I was on 

board the that was lost last fall, and everything I had on 

board went down.’’ 

“On board the were you ? ’ cried Mr. Richards, in sur- 

prise, and glad of any change in the subject of conversation. 
“Why, then you must have known Star, as she was also on 
that steamer." 

“Star — Star Gladstone, do you mean?’’ eagerly inquired Mr. 


lOO 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST, 


Rosevelt, for it was he, as doubtless the reader has surmised 
before this. 

“Yes, Star, or Stella Gladstone, is her name.'' 

Mr. Rosevelt sat down again, his face full of interest and 
animation now, and forgetting his weariness for the time in his 
desire to learn something of the beautiful girl to whom he was 
so deeply indebted. 

“Where is she?" he asked. “What do you know — what 
can you tell me about her?" 

“She is here in this house," Mr. Richards answered. “She 
is the child of one of my wife’s relatives who resided in Eng- 
land, and Ellen, upon learning that she was an orphan and 
homeless, consented to have her come here," he concluded, 
trying to make the best of a very poor story. 

“ I never expected to hear anything of her again, but I am 
very glad to know that she is here," Mr. Rosevelt said, with 
evident emotion. “She saved my life during that awful time, 
almost at the sacrifice of her own. It would, perhaps, have 
been better had she not exerted herself in my behalf so much. 
It is not a pleasant feeling to know that one is regarded as an 
incumbrance and a burden," he continued, with some bitter- 
ness; “but I shall never forget her heroism while I live. She 
nearly starved herself to death to keep life in me." 

“I am astonished at what you tell me," returned Mr. Rich- 
ards, feeling a deeper interest in Star than ever before. 

“She disappeared very suddenly from the steamer which 
picked us up and brought us into port. I went down to my 
state-room for something, and then to the captain to thank 
him for his kindness and bid him farewell, and when I"went to 
look for her she had gone ; some one had come and taken her 
away. " 

“Yes; we heard of the arrival of a steamer with some of the 
wrecked on board, and Ellen immediately sent Mrs. Blunt down 
to see if Star was among them," explained Mr. Richards. 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 


lOI 


‘‘She must be a pleasant addition to your family, George; 
she was a very attractive girl/' 

“Ahem I" that gentleman replied, avoiding the keen eye 
fixed upon him. “ Yes; she is a smart and talented girl; she 
will make a fine woman, without doubt. Would you like to 
see her to-night.?” 

“No; I believe I am too tired. I will go to the lodge now, 
if you please. I can see her to-morrow;” and the old man 
arose again. 

Mr. Richards led the way from the room, getting his baggage j 
from the hall, and then took him through the dining-room to 
lead him out by a side door. 

As they passed through the hall, sounds of music and laughter 
came to them from the drawing-room ; and had any one been 
watching Mr. Rosevelt closely, he might have seen his lips curl 
with something like scorn and his eyes gleam indignantly, in 
spite of his weariness. 

As Mr. Richards opened the outside door leading out upon 
the veranda, a slight figure sprang up from the step, and Star, 
with a startled glance, turned and confronted them. 

A look of surprise swept over her face as she saw Mr. 
Richards' companion ; then, with a low cry of joy, she darted 
forward and seized Mr. Rosevelt by the hand. 

“Oh, sir,” she said, tremulously, “I was afraid I should 
never see you again ! How glad I am to meet you once 
more !” 

Mr. Rosevelt recognized her at once, and recognized, too, the 
heartiness and sincerity of her welcome. There was nothing 
forced or constrained about either her words or manner. 

“Ah, Miss Star, I am as glad to see you as you can possibly 
be to see me,” he said, shaking her hand warmly. “I little 
thought,” he went on, “that when you and I were faring so 
poorly together that we were bound for the same place. I in- 


102 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST. 


tended then to come here before this. Why did you not tell 
me that you were a relative of Mrs. Richards.?"' 

“ I did not think much about it, sir, or that my destination 
could interest you," she answered. 

“Tut, tut, child!" he said, gently; ^'anything connected 
with you w^ould have been of interest to me after your kind- 
ness to me. I was deeply disappointed to find you gone when 
I went to seek you ; but they told me that some one had come 
and taken you away, so I was forced to go my way also. Well," 
he concluded, smiling, “I have found you now, and I shall 
not lose sight of you again." 

“But are you going away now, sir?" Star asked, glancing at 
the bag Mr Richards was carrying, and which had the initials 
“ J. R. " painted upon it. 

“No; only to the lodge for sleeping accommodations, as 
there is no room in the house for me." 

“No room in the house for you?" Star repeated, in astonish- 
ment; but something in Mr. Richards’ face warned her that all 
was not as he would wish, and she added, flushing: “I wish 
you would take my room, then ; for I can sleep very nicely on 
the lounge in the sewing-room ." 

Mr. Richards raved inwardly over his wife’s obstinacy and 
heartlessness, which compared so unfavorably with this gentle 
girl’s generosity and self-denial; but he could only hold his 
peace and let matters take their course, for if he interfered with 
his wife in her present state of bitterness and disappointment 
over the loss of her expected fortune, he knew that a domestic 
squall would be sure to follow, and one which it would be hard 
to settle. 

“No, thank you. Miss Star," Mr. Rosevelt returned; “I 
will go to the lodge until there is room for me in the house. 
You are as kind and self-sacrificing as ever, I perceive, but I 
will not deprive you of your room. Good-night, my child ; I 
shall see you to-morrow, '' 


THE UNWELCOME GUEST, 


103 


He laid his hand in a tender, caressing way on her head ; 
then went out with Mr. Richards, whom he enlightened still 
further regarding that eventful voyage which he and Star had 
made together. 

She stood still in the door-way looking after them, a puzzled 
expression on her face, a gleam of indignation in her large 
blue eyes. 

She had overheard Mrs. Richards telling Josephine some- 
thing about “Uncle Jacob,'' that afternoon after leaving her 
husband. 

The name had made her think of Mr. Rosevelt, and he had 
been in her thoughts most of the time since ; but she had not 
imagined that they were referring to him, or that he was a 
relative of the family. Now she saw that he was the “Uncle 
Jacob" to whom she referred, but she could not understand his 
being sent out of the house to sleep. 

“No room in the house ! What can they mean.?" she mur- 
mured, with tingling cheeks, for she knew of three unoccupied 
beds that he might have had as well as not. 

To be sure they had been made up for company that was 
expected, but the visitors would not arrive for a day or two, 
and it seemed such an inhospitable thing to send that old man 
away down to the lodge, with its close, small rooms, to sleep. 

“I hope I shall never be rich if it would make me hard- 
hearted like that," she said, with indignation. “I would prefer 
to struggle all my life with poverty, and have a kind and 
generous heart — one that can feel for others in trouble and 
sorrow. How tired and ill he looked, too," she went on, re- 
calling his pale face and drooping attitude, “and he is such a 
splendid man I" 

“It makes me think of those other words," she said, the 
tears springing to her eyes : “ ‘And there was no room in the 
inn,' and of One who, in consequence, had to lie in a manger. 
Thai could not be helped, for there was no room ; but this is 


104 


FILTHY LUCRE, 


shameful, for there is plenty and to spare here. How can any 
one treat one's father's brother so?'" 


CHAPTER XI. 

FILTHY LUCRE. 

The next morning word was brought from the lodge that 
Mr. Rosevelt was quite ill, and not able to come up to the 
mansion for his breakfast. 

‘‘Breakfast, indeed !" muttered Mrs. Richards, with a toss 
of her proud head; “as if he supposed he was going to be 
invited to sit at the table with my fashionable guests in his 
shabby clothes." 

She had received a full account of his arrival and appearance 
from her husband the night previous, after Mr. Rosevelt's de- 
parture for the lodge. 

Mr. Richards went at once to see him, and to give orders to 
Mrs. Mellen, the wife of the gardener, to do everything for his 
comfort. 

Later, his wife, with much inward fretting and fuming, fol- 
lowed his example, not because she had any desire to see him 
or felt in any way anxious about him, but to save unpleasant 
remarks and comments. 

She met her uncle with anything but a cordial greeting, and 
which, even in the midst of his suffering, he could not fail to 
feel keenly. 

“I am very sorry, Uncle Jacob, that you are ill, especially 
as I am full of company just now, and cannot personally give 
you the attention that you ought to receive," she said, trying to 
speak sympathetically, but failing utterly. 


FILTHY LUCRE. 


105 


‘‘Never mind me, Ellen. Mrs. Mellen seems very kindly 
disposed, and will, no doubt, do all that is necessary for me. I 
am sorry to be a burden to you in my misfortune, but you have 
always been so kind to me, urging me so cordially to come to 
) ou at any time, that I thought you would be glad to see your 
old uncle under any circumstances,'' the old man said, regard- 
ing her closely while he was speaking. 

“I hope you will soon be better," Mrs. Richards returned, 
evasively. 

She did not think it necessary to tell him that he was no 
burden, or to say anything to make him feel comfortable and 
at ease in his trying situation. 

She was so deeply disappointed and chagrined on account 
of the loss of his fortune, and consequently of her share of 
his million, that it was impossible not to betray something of 
her feelings. 

“Thank you," he returned, coldly. “Do not allow my con- 
dition to cause you any anxiety. I am very comfortable. It is 
very quiet here, and I shall doubtless do very well." 

“Yes; you will be more quiet here than up at the house, 
where there are so many people and^so much going on," she 
replied, eagerly seizing this pretext for keeping him where he 
was. “And," she added, “if you need anything, Mrs. Mellen 
can attend to all your wants." 

After a few more commonplace remarks, she took her de- 
parture, feeling quite relieved to have him so easily disposed of 
She had nothing to gain now by' fawning and flattery, and 
since his gold was gone, he was no more to her than any other 
feeble old man, and it would not pay even to pretend what she 
did not feel. 

As she went rustling out of the room and down stairs in her 
rich attire, her aged and dependent relative lay back in his 
chair, with a darkening brow and a pale, pained face. 

“Money! money! money!" he muttered. “No one is of 


FILTHY LUCRE. 


io6 

r«uch account in this world without plenty of the filthy lucre. 
Jf 1 had come here as I used to, with plethoric pockets instead 
of an empty purse and shabby attire, no one would have been 
sweeter or more delighted to see 'dear Uncle Jacob' than Ellen 
Richards. And it was just the same with Henry and his family. 
When I could make them costly presents and shower favors 
upon them — when I was 'Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire’ — no 
trouble was too great, nothing too good for me. It is a cold- 
hearted, selfish world ; no one is to be trusted. But it is a little 
hard on an old man to find that he must go down to his grave 
and feel that he is regarded with affection by nobody. Talk of 
'Divine dispensations,’ of 'tempering the wind to the shorn 
lamb’ — there is no divinity about it, for the adverse winds of 
the world never blew so coldly on me as at this moment,” he 
concluded, bitterly; and bowing his head upon his hands, he 
seemed to lose himself in troubled thought. 

" May I come in?” asked a gentle voice behind him, after a 
few minutes; and turning, he saw two blue eyes gleaming at 
him from beneath soft curls of sunny hair, a pair of red lips 
smiling upon him, while a slight, graceful figure, daintily clad 
in a pretty blue lawn gown, stood in the door-way, waiting for 
his permission to enter. 

Jacob Rosevelt’s sad face involuntarily brightened at the sight 
of this attractive picture, and he said, hastily : 

"Well, well, child, I believe you are rightly named, for you 
come like a veritable star into the gloom of my life. Star 
Gladstone — it is but an index to your character, for you both 
brighten and cheer. Of course you may come in.” 

"Thank you,” Star said, laughing, and advancing to his side. 
"I did not expect to be so highly complimented when I came 
out. I have brought you this lovely spray of oleanders which 
the gardener gave me from the conservatory,” and she held up 
her little vase containing the bright, fragrant blossoms. "And 
here,” she continued, "is a dish of the most delicious rasp- 


FILTHY LUCRE, < 


107 


berries you ever tasted, every one picked by my own fingers/^ 
and she held up her right hand, showing her slender fingers 
stained by the rosy fruit. 

He watched her, his pale lips relaxing into a smile, which 
even extended to the eyes that had been so sad a little while 
before. She was irresistible in her bright beauty; she was as 
fresh and sweet as the morning itself, while with her heart filled 
with kindness and consideration for him, he began to think that 
all the world was not quite so bad as he had thought. 

‘‘Mrs. Mellen told me, as I came in, that you did not eat 
much breakfast,'' Star continued; “and as she is about to serve 
you a little lunch, I brought my berries right up to give them 
to you myself." 

Mrs. Mellen entered at this moment, bearing a little tray 
with a tempting lunch spread upon it. 

Star wheeled a small table to the invalid's side, spread a spot- 
less towel which she found upon the rack upon it, and then 
deftly arranged the dishes in the most tempting way before him, 
putting the oleander blossoms in the center and the raspberries 
just under his nose, where he could not fail to get their delicious 
odor and long to eat them. 

“ How pretty and inviting you make everything look, little 
one," he said, affectionately, as he watched her graceful move- 
ments and their result. 

“ What would the world be but for the beauty there is in it? 
and what are pretty things given us for, but to enjoy?" Star 
returned, with a fond glance at the flowers, as she moved them 
a trifle nearer to his plate. 

“There," she went on, smiling, and tossing her hat upon a 
chair, “I believe I am hungry myself, and i/ you will allow me 
to pour your tea, I think I could eat a slice of Mrs. Mellen's 
delicious bread and butter with you afterward. You don't often 
see such bread as that, I can assure you, and I frequently run 
down here and beg her to give me some." 


io8 


FILTHY LUCRE, 


The young girl shot a smiling glance at the woman as she 
spoke, and the woman's face beamed with pleasure at this 
tribute to her skill. 

“Bless you, child!" Mr. Rosevelt said, as he unfolded his 
napkin and drew nearer the table; “the sight of your bright 
face and the smell of your berries have given me an appetite 
already. Sit down, sit down ; my tea will taste ten per cent, 
better to be poured by your fair hands, and while we eat you 
shall tell me how it has fared with you during the past year. I 
see it has not changed you at heart ; you are the same as when 
we parted, and you were as ready as ever last night to sacrifice 
your own comfort for a poor old man." 

Star blushed. She felt almost as guilty, knowing that there 
had been room for him at the house, as if she had been the one 
to turn him away. 

“I knew these rooms were low and close, while my room, 
although rather high up, was much more airy ; besides, you 
looked too tired and ill to walk way down here," Star explained, 
with some embarrassment 

“ Your own is rather high up, is it? How high?" he asked, 
giving her a keen glance. 

“ It is in the third story," she answered, flushing again. 

“Ah I one would be apt to get good air in that latitude," said 
Mr. Rosevelt, dryly. “Now tell me," he added, “what you 
have been doing since I saw you. " 

Star gave him an account of her life at school, omitting for 
several reasons to speak of the fate which had been intended 
for her, and said just as little as she could in connection with 
Mrs. Richards and her haughty daughter, or their treatment of 
her. She told him of her music, of the books she had read, 
and what her plans for the future were when she should graduate 
at the end of another year. 

She spent more than an hour with him, and when at length 


FILTHY LUCRE, 


109 

she left him, he was apparently much cheered and a good deal 
better for her visit. 

She went every morning afterward while her vacation lasted, 
always taking him something in the way of fruit or flowers, and 
cheering him with her lively chatting, until he began to look 
for her coming as the chief event of the day. 

Sometimes they would wander together through the beautiful 
grounds of Mr. Richards' place, or, finding a cozy nook. Star 
would take some interesting book and read to him ; and as the 
week went by, he appeared to improve in health and to grow 
more contented with his lot. 

He continued to remain at the lodge, in spite of the fact that 
the company had all departed, and there was now plenty of 
room in the mansion. 

Mr. Richards had gone West on a prolonged business trip, 
and, of course, could not use his influence as to any change; 
while Mrs. Richards appeared to ignore his presence entirely, 
unless she came upon him unexpectedly, when she would treat 
him with indifferent politeness. 

Josephine's attitude toward him was one of proud disdain, 
although once she professed great friendship for him ; but now 
he was nothing more than an aged, decrepit man — a sort of 
“cumberer of the ground," and simply tolerated because it 
would be considered inhuman to cast him out at that time 
of life. ♦ 

In September Mrs. Richards and her daughter went to Long 
Branch for a change, leaving the household in charge of Mrs. 
Blunt. 

Star began school again, going back and forth by rail, as the 
tcwn house would not be opened again until October. 

This made it hard for her, because she was obliged to go so 
early and return so late; but as her comfort was not a matter 
which usually demanded much consideration, and she made no 
complaint, the fact remained unnoticed. 


no 


FILTHY LUCRE. 


During the absence of the family, Mr. Rosevelt frequented 
the house, for it was much more comfortable through those 
hot September days than his contracted room at the lodge, and 
he was glad to avail himself of the privilege of the well-stocked 
library to while away the long hours of Star s absence. 

In the evening she would entertain him with her music, 
while on Saturday they both felt like children out of school ; 
and thus day by day they grew to feel a deep affection for each 
other. 

“She at least does not love me for my money,"' the old 
man would often mutter to himself, with a grim smile, after 
receiving some thoughtful attention from the young girl ; “her 
affection is sincere and disinterested, and I pray that her gentle 
heart may never become seared and hardened by the cold 
world. "" 

He had long ago learned just how Star was regarded by the 
family, and how they had attempted to degrade her to the level 
of a common servant, and this did not tend to make him enter- 
tain any deeper respect for them. 

His information on this point he had gathered chiefly from 
Mrs. Blunt. Star would not talk about it, always evading or 
changing the subject in a dextrous way that amused him in no 
small degree. 

Meanwhile Josephine and her mother were flourishing among 
the fashionable at Long Branch. 

The season proved to be a very gay one ; every hotel was 
crowded, and many noted people from various countries were 
sojourning there. 

Among others, the Richardses heard upon their arrival, there 
was a young English lord of great reputed wealth, having, it 
was said, the largest rent-roll in Derbyshire, England. 

“They say he is the handsomest man in the place, as well 
as the richest,"" Josephine said to her mother, the night after 
their arrival at the g;ay watering-place, having heard this piece 


FILTHY LUCRE. 


m 


of news, with much else, from an intimate friend. ''All the 
girls are wild about him/' she pursued. "Annie Falkner was 
introduced to him yesterday, and says he is as charming in 
conversation as he is in appearance." 

"How old is he?" asked Mrs. Richards, pricking up her 
maternal ears at once over this wonderful information. 

"About twenty-one or two, Annie thought he might be. 
He has been traveling in this country for a year, just to see a 
little of the world before settling upon his own estate. It is 
whispered," the eager damsel went on, with flushing cheeks 
and sparkling eyes, "that he has heard of the beauty of 
American ladies, and is on the lookout for a handsome wife ;" 
and Josephine tossed her head with a conscious smile, as her 
eyes wandered to the reflection of her own fine face and figure 
in an opposite mirror. 

'‘That is somewhat doubtful, I think, since the English 
nobility are very jealous regarding marriages outside the pale 
of their own rank. However, such things are happening every 
year now, and this young lord may be captivated by some of 
our American beauties, after all ;" and Mrs. Richards bestowed 
a glance of pride upon her handsome daughter, and thought 
how delightful it would be to figure as mother-in-law to an 
English lord, and to be able to say, "my daughter, Lady So- 
and-So. " 

That evening Josephine Richards, the most brilliant girl in 
the ball-room of the Howard House — the hotel where they 
were stopping — was made supremely happy by receiving an in- 
troduction to Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, Derbyshire, England. 

One look into the frank, handsome eyes of the manly 
stranger, one touch of his hand, one tone of his rich, musical 
voice as it vibrated in her ears, and she knew that she had 
met the man whom she should love with the one great passion 
of her life. 

He was tall, with a well-developed form, straight, strong, and 


II2 


FILTH f LUCRE, 


lithe ; a splendidly shaped head, with masses of waving brown 
hair; clear, truthful, brown eyes, full of fire and intelligence; 
a full, rather low brow, a straight nose, and a smiling but de- 
cided mouth, with brilliant, even teeth. 

It was not much wonder that the girls were wild'' over 
such a man as this, and he a o rd, with a rent-roll of sixty 
thousand a year. 

Josephine herself, at nineteen, was a magnificent-looking girl, 
at least when she was good-natured and animated. 

She was a clear, brilliant brunette, with eyes as black as 
night, a wealth of midnight hair, a fine form, and clearly cut, 
rather delicate features ; and all this, added to a faultless taste 
in matters of dress, went far toward making her the chief attrac- 
tion wherever she went. 

My Lord of Carrolton seemed no less pleased with her than 
she with him, and spent a goodly portion of the evening by her 
side after making her acquaintance, much to the chagrin and 
indignation of other anxious, blooming maidens and fond, 
managing mammas. 

‘‘Have you ever visited Europe.?" the young peer asked his 
companion, as he led her to a seat at the conclusion of a 
quadrille. 

“Never, my lord, but I think we shall persuade papa to 
take us upon a European trip by another year. Mamma has 
some distant relatives, I believe, somewhere in England, 
Josephine replied. 

“I trust you will be as well pleased with my country and 
countrymen as I am with America and Americans," Lord Carrol 
remarked, gallantly, with an inclination or nis grand head, and 
bestowing a look of admiration upon his companion. 

Josephine flushed with pleasure. His glance, his gesture, his 
words, all plainly indicated that he did not consider her the 
least attraction in America or among Americans. 

“Thank you, in the name of my native land," she said; 


FILTHY LUCRE, 


1*3 

*‘but I think you must be an exception to the proverbial 
Englishman, for I have been told that, as a rule, they do not 
like us any too well. They cannot forgive us our indepen- 
dence. '' 

“One may be forced to admire in one way that which it 
might not be pleasant to contemplate in another,’' his lordship 
returned. “But,” he added, “I trust that as we, as nations, 
become better acquainted with each other by the frequent inter- 
change of courtesies, we shall also become better friends.” 

“ Have you been long in America?” 

“Nearly a year. I have visited a large portion of the country, 
and I must confess that I am greatly pleased and interested in 
what I have seen, and particularly so with your free institutions 
and schools. Your people, too, are generous, free-hearted, and 
intelligent, while the beauty of American ladies, you know, is 
proverbial,” he concluded, smiling. 

Josephine’s dark eyes drooped shyly beneath his glance, while 
the blood went rippling to her heart with a thrill such as she 
had never before experienced. 

“I shall remain two or three months longer,” he continued ; 
“and I think when I do return, notwithstanding I love old 
England very dearly, I shall go with something of regret.” 

He would remain two or three months longer. 

Josephine’s heart leaped exultingly; she would meet him 
often, perhaps, this noble young peer; and what might not 
happen in two or three months? 

“ Do you remain long at Long Branch?” she asked. 

“ Three or four weeks, perhaps. I find it very pleasant here,” 
he said ; and again that thrill leaped through her veins. “I 
shall then go to New York,” he added, “where I shall make 
my headquarters until I return to England.” 

“ Perhaps we can help to make your stay in New York pleas- 
ant,” Josephine said, with her most brilliant smile. “Mamma 
and I are to remain here until the first of October, when we 


JI4 THE CAMEO RING, 

shall go home, and can, perhaps, help to show you more of 
our great city than you would otherwise see/' 

Thanks; I shall be very happy to avail myself of your 
kindness. But there is the signal for supper; may I take 
you in?'' 

It is needless to say that the fascinated girl accepted his in- 
vitation, and spent the hour feasting more upon the young 
lord s handsorne looks and charming conversation than upon 
the choice viands which he placed before her. 

It was evident that he also experienced pleasure in her 
society, for, when he took her to Mrs. Richards — as she made 
a signal that she wished to retire from the company — and was 
introduced to her, and then accompanied them both to the foot 
of the staircase leading to their apartments, he asked and ob- 
tained permission to call upon them on the morrow, 
i 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE CAMEO RING. 

A fortnight passed, and the Brooklyn beauty, as Miss Richards 
was designated, together with the attention she was receiving 
from the handsome English lord, formed the principal theme 
of conversation at the fashionable watering-place. 

Mrs. Richards was in her element, and conducted herself 
remarkably well. 

His lordship considered her a woman of very fine appear- 
ance and of wonderful tact ; and it was noticeable that when 
he was in her presence he paid her full as much homage as he 


THE CAMEO RING, 


II5 

did her daughter ; but people of course said this was all for a 
particular purpose. 

'‘By the way/' she said to him, one day, when they were 
comparing the merits of their respective countries, "I am more 
than half English myself.. The late Lady Thornton, of Hallo- 
well Park, Devonshire, was an aunt of mine — at least, my 
mother was her half-sister — and I have other distant relatives 
living in the same county.*' 

“Indeed !" said Lord Carrol, his face lighting at this intelli- 
gence. “ I had no idea that you had any English blood in 
your veins; I thought you were purely American. I have often 
heard my father speak of Sir William Thornton, of Devonshire, 
and his son. Sir Charles, was at Oxford with me. I was only 
slightly acquainted with him, however, as he took his degree a 
year before I took mine. I am very happy to learn of this 
fact," and, as if by some fascination, the young nobleman's 
glance sought Josephine as he spoke. 

“I once visited at Hallowell Park when I was a young girl," 
Mrs. x' ichards continued, although a flush arose to her cheek 
as she remembered all that had transpired during that visit, for 
it was then that Star's mother had saved her from drowning. 
“It is a lovely place, and a very large estate, I believe." 

“So I have been told. Sir William was quite an active states- 
man before his death, which occurred only a year after his wife’s. 
They had only one child, Sir Charles, I believe." 

“ Has he a family.?" Mrs. Richards asked, quickly. 

“I think not — at least, I have never heard of his marriage. 
If he should die without issue, I suppose the estate would pass 
into other hands." 

Mrs. Richards started, and gave the young man a quick 
glance at this. 

“Whose, I wonder.?" she said, reflectively, and suddenly 
seemed to lose all interest in the conversation, and the young 
lord turned his attention to the more appreciative Josephine. 


THE CAMEO RING. 


1 16 

The month which the Richardses spent at J^png Branch was 
an eventful one ; it was the most brilliant season that Josephine 
had ever knowrt. 

She had several offers of marriage, but refused them all, for 
her heart was set on becoming Lady Carrol, and going to shine 
among the nobility of England. 

When the time drew near for their departure, her heart beat 
high with hope ; for Lord Carrol had lingered beyond the time 
he had intended to spend there, and she flattered herself that 
she was the cause of it. 

He certainly had shown her considerable attention, and it 
was rumored that there would be an engagement. 

He appeared to enjoy the society of both ladies, and although 
he had not committed himself in any way, he had accepted an 
invitation to visit them at their country-seat the second week in 
October, and both Josephine and her mother were hoping much 
from that event. 

The last evening of their sojourn at Long Branch, Miss 
Richards descended to the veranda of the hotel, dressed with 
the utmost care and taste. 

Her robe was of creamy white silk, with an overdress of filmy 
black lace, looped with ciimson fuchsias. There were diamonds 
in her ears, her hair, and clasped about her neck and arms; 
but they were not brighter than her midnight eyes, which 
glowed with hope and love, while her smiling lips vied with the 
flowers which she wore. 

She was brilliantly, dazzlingly beautiful. 

The men watched her every movement with admiring glances; 
the women could but acknowledge her superior charms, yet 
with something of a feeling of envy on account of the prize 
they believed she was about to bear away with her. 

Lord Carrol seemed drawn to her as the needle to the pole. 
He had been sitting at one end of the veranda when she came 
down, but he almost immediately arose and went to her side, 


THE CAMEO RING. 


117 


while he would not have been human not to have betrayed his 
appreciation of the exquisite toilet, which seemed to enhance 
her beauty more than ever. 

She was conscious of looking her best, and this made hei 
appear to better advantage — for who does not feel more at ease 
and self-possessed when conscious of looking well? — while there 
was an unusual gentleness, almost sadness, in her manner, as 
if something foreshadowed that something was slipping out of 
her life to-night — something which would change and darken 
her whole future, unless the man whom she had grown to 
worship should lay at her feet homage equal to that which she 
had given to him. 

“What will the devotees at beauty’s shrine do to-morrow, 
Miss Richards?” the young lord asked, with a smile and a 
glance which told her what she knew already- that she was 
particularly attractive to-night. 

“The Howland House possesses a galaxy pf beauties, and I 
do not think there will be any occasion for the ‘ devotees,’ as 
you call them, to neglect their duty to-morrow,” she answered, 
smiling too, but with heightened color. 

“ Ah ! but it is plainly to be seen where they have bent the 
knee most devoutly,” he replied, with a gesture which called 
her attention to the many admiring eyes fixed upon her. 

She shrugged her graceful shoulders with an air of impatience, 
as if annoyed to find herself so conspicuous, while her darkly 
fringed lids drooped over her glorious eyes, hiding the wistful 
look which had suddenly crept into them. 

“The night is lovely, and the band is playing delightfully ; 
let us go out and wander about the grounds for a little while,” 
Lord Carrol said, after a moment of silence, during which 
sweet, enticing strains came floating toward them on the even- 
ing air. 

She took the arm he offered her, her heart throbbing so 
wildly that she feared he would detect it, and they passed dpwn 


ii8 


THE CAMEO RIHG. 


the steps and away from the crowd on the veranda, some of 
whom smiled to hide their envy, others indulgently, as if upon 
a pair of lovers. 

‘‘I suppose this will be our last night in this charming place,'' 
the young man said, as they slowly wended their way along a 
sheltered avenue. 

She looked up with a slight start at the w6rd ‘^our.” He 
noticed it, and smiled. 

said ‘our,' because I, too, shall leave on the afternoon 
express to-morrow. I have business in New York which will 
occupy me for a week or more." 

Josephine flushed with pleasure at this, for she felt sure that 
the “business" was only a pretext. Her vanity led her to be- 
lieve that Long Branch would be nothing to him without her 
companionship, and that he would go to New York merely to 
pass the interval of time which w^ould elapse before be would 
go to Yonkers to spend the promised week with them. 

“Oh !" she thought, “if he would but speak a single word 
to commit himself that night, she could go away in the morn- 
ing with a light and happy heart." 

But he had never hinted of love for her; he had accom- 
panied her and her mother almost everywhere they had been, 
often showing Mrs. Richards more attention than herself. He 
had danced with her, rode with her, walked with her, and no 
word beyond the most commonplace expressions of friendship 
had ever fallen from his lips. 

Sometimes she had thought that he was drawn to them more 
than to any one else simply because he had discovered them to 
be of English extraction, and felt more freedom and more in 
sympathy with them on that account. 

But she knew, too, that he admired her for her beauty, and 
she certainly had exerted herself more than she had ever done 
in her life before to be not only entertaining, but gentle, and 


THE CAMEO RING. 


II9 

winning, and womanly, and she kept hoping that a crisis would 
come before they left for home. 

They wandered on and on, the moonlight streaming upon 
them through the overarching branches of the trees, and making 
lace-like patterns upon the smoothly graveled walk at their feet, 
and he talked only of yesterday s boating, yesterday’s racing — 
of anything save what her heart was craving to hear. 

The band played its softest, sweetest strains ; the leaves rustled 
whisperingly above their heads, suggestive of lovers’ vows ; they 
were almost alone in the beautiful, moonlighted avenue, and 
everything was conducive to love-making, if his lordship had 
only been so inclined. 

Soon they came out by a fountain where the lights were 
shining brilliantly, and he led her to a rustic seat, placed her 
in it, and sat down beside her. 

“I shall be very sorry *to go,” Josephine said, with a pensive 
sigh, as she looked around on the lovely scene; “it has been 
very pleasant here this summer.” 

“It has, indeed, and I shall carry the memory of it with me 
for a long while,” her companion replied. “You have some 
very beautiful places of resort in your country. Miss Richards. 
You and your mother have made my sojourn at Long Branch 
more than pleasant. Since learning that you have English 
blood in your veins, I have grown to regard you almost as my 
own people; and sometimes,” he added, smiling, “I have felt 
as if I might be intruding myself too much upon you ; but I 
trust I shall be able to return some of your kindness when you 
come to England.” 

Josephine’s heart sank like lead in her bosom. 

These were surely very commonplace words to speak to her 
on the eve of her departure, if he entertained anything of affec- 
tion for her. 

“It would be a great delight to me to visit England,” she 
returned; “and you have told me so much about your beauti- 


120 


THE CAMEO RING. 


ful home — ^your mother and sister — that I have a great desire to 
see both it and them.” 

“You must come to Cheshire Park — my mother's and sisters 
home. Next year I shall hope to show it to you,” he said, 
earnestly. 

Did he mean that he hoped she would go there with him, or 
was it merely a wish that she would visit England, that he might 
be able to return some of the courtesies which she and her 
mother had shown him } 

She could not tell, but hope seemed deserting her; her 
heart beat heavily, she grew pale and sad, and a slight shiver 
shook her. 

He noticed it. 

“You are taking cold, I fear; we ought not to sit here in 
this evening air.” 

“No, I am not taking cold; I will tie my handkerchief 
around my throat, however,” she answered. 

It was so pleasant sitting there beside him, so pleasant to 
listen to his rich, deep voice and look into his clear brown 
eyes, that she could not bear to think of going back to the 
hotel just yet. 

She tied her handkerchief about her white throat, and as she 
did so, the light struck full upon a ring which he had not seen 
her wear before. 

It was a lovely cameo, very delicately cut. It was Star’s little 
treasure, the gift of Archibald Sherbrooke. 

“Pardon me,'’ Lord Carrol said, with a slight start as he 
observed it, “but you have a ring on your hand that I have 
never seen you wear before. It is very lovely. May I examine 
it more closely.?’ 

Josephine unhesitatingly laid her hand on his palm, her whole 
body thrilling as his fingers closed over it, and he bent his 
proud head to examine the ring. 

She had had poor Star’s pin made into this ring, which she 


THE CAMEO RING. 


I2I 


had worn a few times, and then tiring of it, had thrown it into 
her jewel-box, where it had lain unheeded until to-night, when 
a sudden whim had caused her to put it on. 

‘‘It is a very finely carved cameo,"' he said, after a few mo- 
ments, during which he had regarded it intently. “I once saw 
one so nearly like it that I do not think I could distinguish it 
from this. It belonged to — to a friend of mine, although that 
was in the form of a pin." 

“Was your friend a lady or gentleman?" Josephine asked, 
quickly, and not giving herself time to realize that she was 
betraying undue curiosity. 

“A gentleman," he returmsd, briefly. 

“It is a pretty trifle which was given to me by a relative," 
Josephine said, without even wincing at the/f-?, yet feeling guilty 
and uncomfortable to have the stone recognized. 

“It is evidently quite a valuable cameo," Lord Carrol re- 
turned, thoughtfully, “and the person of whom I spoke prized 
the one he had very highly, for he is something of an artist, 
and had it carved in Italy after a design which he made 
himself." 

“Indeed! Is your artist an Englishman?" Miss Richards 
asked, with downcast eyes, and more interested in this matter 
than she cared to appear. 

“Yes ; and his name is Sherbrooke — Archibald Sherbrooke," 
Lord Carrol replied, while he regarded her intently. 

Josephine started, and the color flamed into her face. 

Archibald Sherbrooke 1 

The name smote her unpleasantly, for she remembered those 
two initials, “A. S.," which were marked on the back of the 
setting of the cameo, and having two tiny strawberry leaves 
engraved underneath. 

Could it be possible that Star — the despised girl at Yonkers — 
knew Archibald Sherbrooke, the friend of Lord Carrol, and that 
he had given this elegant cameo to her? 


122 


THE CAMEO RING. 


She remembered how, when she had asked her to give it to 
her, Star’s lips had trembled as she said “it was. the gift of a 
friend and she did not like to part with it;” but she never 
imagined that the associate of a peer would take interest enough 
in a girl occupying the position she occupied to give her so 
costly an ornament as this. 

The thought was not a pleasant one, or it told her that if 
such was the case, and there could be no doubt of it, that Star 
was known and appreciated by one whom this English lord 
held in high esteem. 

She would have liked to question him more about this 
“friend” of his, but did not wish to betray too much curiosity 
lest he should mistrust that she had the identical stone which 
he referred to, and should in turn ask unpleasant questions 
of her. 

She therefore changed the subject as quickly as possible, 
hoping to win him to a mood more congenial with her own 
feelings and desires. 

But her efforts proved unavailing, for his lordship had sud- 
denly become thoughtful and taciturn ; and Miss Richards at 
last, berating herself soundly for having worn that unlucky ring 
that evening, signified her desire to return to the hotel. 

Mrs. Richards had watched them saunter from the veranda 
in a flutter of anticipation, hoping that the all-important mo- 
ment had at last arrived. 

But one glance at her daughter’s face when they came back 
told her that the much wished for crisis had not arrived, and 
she felt deeply disappointed. 

“Good-night and good-by !” Josephine said, holding out her 
white hand to her companion as they entered the hotel. She 
could not trust herself longer in his society, lest she should 
betray something of her disappointment and ill-nature. “I 
must say my farewell now, I suppose, since we are to leave by 
the early train to-morrow.” 


THE CAMEO RING. 


123 

‘‘It is always hard to say farewell to our friends/' Lord Carrol 
answered, smiling as he took her extended hand. “However, 
I can say it with a better grace now than if it was to be a final 
one. But are you going to leave us so soon.? There is a gay 
company in the dancing-hall, and I fear many will be disap- 
pointed if you flit so early." 

“Yes, I am going up to my room," she answered, wearily; 
and he noticed that she had grown very pale and was shivering. 

“lam really afraid you have taken cold; you look ill, and I 
fear I kept you out too long," he said, anxiously. 

“No," she returned, brightening a trifle as she saw how 
troubled he was on her account. “I have not taken cold, but 
I do not feel like dancing to-night, so I will retire. Good-by 
for a week." 

“ Yes, for one week ; then I shall see you in your own home 
at Yonkers," Lord Carrol said; and just then Mrs. Richards 
approached them. 

“How is it that you two young people are not in the ball- 
room .?" she said, brightly. 

“I am taking leave of Miss Richards, who thinks of retiring, 
as she says you leave on the early train," explained his lordship. 

“What is the trouble, Josie — are you not well.?" the elder 
lady asked, with maternal solicitude. 

“Yes; but I do not wish to dance to-night, so I am going 
up stairs." 

“Then Til go with you, for I have not quite finished packing. 
Well, my lord," she added, turning cheerily to him and giving 
him her hand, “I trust you will spend the coming week pleas- 
antly, and then we shall expect 10 see you again." 

“Thanks. Shall I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Richards 
then .? Will he have returned by that time ?" the young man 
asked. 

“Yes; he returns next week," Mrs. Richards answered, a 
new idea striking her. 


124 


A GLAD MEETING, 


Probably he wished to consult formally with her husband 
before proposing to Josephine ; the English, she knew, were 
very punctilious regarding such matters. 

Yes, she was confident, now she thought of it, that was why 
he had not come to the point to-night. 

So, after a few more cordially spoken regrets, good wishes, 
and so forth, they left him and sought their rooms. 

Lord Carrol turned and went out into the grounds again, his 
face grow’n very grave and thoughtful. 

“ I never would have believed it. I do not understand it at 
alV he muttered to himself 

But what he did not understand or could not believe, the 
future must develop. 

The next morning Mrs. Richards and her daughter left for 
Yonkers, and the same afternoon Lord Carrol was en route for 
New York city. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A GLAD MEETING. 

Back and forth every day from Yonkers, patiently and un- 
complainingly, went Star Gladstone to her school, glad to pur- 
sue her studies and music at any cost or sacrifice. 

This occupied nine long hours of five days in the week, and, 
weary as she was upon her return, she always devoted what time 
she could to the white-haired old gentleman who w^atched her 
depart with a sigh, waited eagerly for her return, and who 
brightened so visibly when she appeared. 

One day, after school. Star had an errand at a music store. 


A GLAD MEETING, 


125 


and was detained so long by the slow movement of the clerk 
who waited upon her, that she was obliged to hurry with all her 
strength to catch her train. 

She entered the station breathless, just as the last bell rang 
and the cars began to move. 

Hoping to overtake it even then, she ran for it, her small feet 
barely touching the ground as she sped over it. She reached 
the last car, put forth her hand to lay hold upon the railing 
and spring upon the steps, when a firm grasp upon her arms 
from behind rendered her efforts fruitless, and a deep, rich 
voice said : 

“Young lady, pardon me the liberty I take, but that is a 
very dangerous experiment.'' 

The train was gone. Mr. Rosevelt would look for her in 
vain when it came in, but Star could not regret it, although she 
had exerted every nerve to catch it, for she would know that 
voice no matter where she heard it ; and, with a vivid flush leap- 
ing to her cheeks, her pulses thrilling with excitement and 
delight, she turned quickly to find herself face to face with her 
whilom compagnon de voyage — Archibald Sherbrooke ! 

His face lighted brilliantly in an instant as he recognized her, 
for although she had changed somewhat during the past year, 
growing lovelier than ever, he had never forgotten those star- 
like eyes, those waves of soft, golden hair shading her forehead, 
nor that sweetly smiling, scarlet mouth. 

“Miss Gladstone!" he cried, putting out his hand to her. 
“I had no idea whom I was saving from committing such an 
act of imprudence when I saw you about to leap upon that 
moving train ; but I am doubly glad now that my presumption 
prevented you from doing anything so rash, and gave me this 
unexpected pleasure." 

“ I am glad, too, for I am delighted to see you again, Mr. 
Sherbrooke," Star said, heartily and frankly, as she gave him 


126 


A GLAD MEETING, 


her neatly gloved hand, and looking straight up into his hand- 
some eyes in a way that testified to the sincerity of her words 

‘‘I know it was imprudent to try to leap upon a moving 
train,'' she continued ; “but there is some one at home who is 
always disappointed if I do not return at a certain hour, and so 
I was anxious to catch it. However, another leaves in a half- 
hour; and, indeed, I am very glad to have met you." 

How lady-like she was ! With what perfect self-possession 
and grace she greeted him, notwithstanding her sparkling eyes 
and the flush which had leaped to her cheek told of inward 
excitement. 

She was the same, and yet not the same ; she had developed 
wonderfully since that morning when he had parted from her 
on the steamer. 

Her hair was still of the same beautiful golden hue as the lock 
which she had severed for him, and which he still treasured ; 
her eyes were the same heavenly blue, her smile as bright and 
sweet, but there was an added, indescribable charm about her 
that made her tenfold more lovely in his sight. 

“Thank you," he said, in reply to her hearty greeting; “and 
now, if you have only half an hour before another train goes, 
let us make the most of it, and find a seat in the waiting-room 
where we can compare notes on the last ten months." 

He led the way to the ladies' room, found a comfortable chair 
in a corner for her where they could talk undisturbed, and the 
half hour slipped by before they had any idea that it was time 
for Star to go. 

“There is my train," she said, suddenly starting up as the 
first bell rang; “ I must not miss this one, or Mr. Rosevelt will 
surely think something dreadful has happened to me." 

“Mr. Rosevelt!" repeated young Sherbrooke, in surprise. 

“Yes; is it not singular We met as strangers on board the 
steamer, and, after all, we were coming to be inmates of the 
same house and did not know it." 


A GLAD MEETING. 


127 


*‘Yes, it is strange. He was a fine-appearing old gentle- 
man. I trust that he has recovered from the effects of his ex- 
posure at sea."' 

“Not entirely, and I fear he never will,” Star answered, with 
a sigh. “His health is not very good, and his eyes trouble him 
exceedingly at times They were injured by the reflection of 
the glaring sun in the water while we were in that open boat. 
We are excellent friends, and he watches anxiously for my 
return every day.” 

“Do you come to New York every day.?” her companion 
questioned. 

“Yes; I am attending a seminary in Brooklyn, and for the 
present go back and forth every day. But see,” she added, 
pointing to the clock; “there is only one minute more, and I 
must find a seat.” 

He assisted her to enter and conducted her to a seat ; then, 
extending his hand, he said, smiling : 

“ If you come to the city every day, I shall hope to see you 
again. ” 

The ever ready color leaped to her cheeks again, more at the 
look he gave her than at his words. 

She was upon the point of giving him her address and ask- 
ing him to come out to Yonkers to see her and Mr. Rosevelt, 
but the train started, and she was obliged to leave her invitation 
unspoken. 

He had only time to lift his hat, dart away and leap upon 
the platform, before the train was under way. 

Archibald Sherbrooke not only hoped to see her again, he did 
see her many times after that, for he contrived to be at the 
station on some pretext or other, or overtake her on the way 
thither, every day for nearly a week, and he was always greeted 
with a glad look and smile. Every day she grew more beautiful 
in his sight ; every day his eyes told her so, and these chance (.?) 
meetings grew very sweet to them both. 


128 


A GLAD MEETING, 


'‘You must come out to Yonkers, some day, and see Mr. 
Rosevelt,'’ Star said, upon one of these occasions. 

"There, I declare, we have found so much else to talk 
about, that I have not even told you where I live,'' she said, 
laughing. 

"And I am invited out to see A/r. Rosevelt^ am I?" he asked, 
with a twinkle of mischief in his fine eyes. 

"Yes," Star returned, demurely. "I know he will be very 
much pleased to see you — indeed, he said so when I told him 
of our meeting. He remembers how good to him you were 
after his rescue." 

"Thanks. Then I shall certainly avail myself of your in- 
vitation, and go out to see Mr. Rosevelt some day very soon," 
he said, with a grave bow ; but his eyes told her that she would 
be the star to attract him thither. 

"You say he remembers what transpired on the steamer. 
Do you remember, too. Miss Star, how you told me at parting 
that I should always be your friend — that you would never 
forget me?" 

Star's glorious eyes drooped, and the quick color rushing 
upward, stained all her fair face to those soft yellow curls on 
her forehead. 

"1 have not forgotten," she murmured, softly. 

"Neither have I, as perhaps this will prove to you," said the 
young man, lifting a tiny locket which hung from his watch- 
chain, and, touching a spring, held it up before her. 

It contained nothing save a tress of shining hair, and Star 
knew in an instant to whom it had once belonged. 

Like a flash she remembered the cameo that he had given 
her as a souvenir, and a choking sensation came into her 
throat. 

She knew by the way he was looking at her — by the way 
he had asked her if she "remembered" — that he was wonder- 


A GLAD MEETING, 


129 

ing if she had kept his gift as he had treasured that lock of 
silken hair. 

There was not a piece of jewelry about her person, and he 
had remarked that fact the first time he met her there at the 
station. 

Every article of her toilet was as dainty as it was possible to 
make it with her limited resources, and she looked every inch 
a lady; but it was not usual in those days to see a young girl 
of her age without the glitter of gold or tinsel somewhere 
about her. 

“You have kept it all this time,” she said, scarce knowing 
what to say from embarrassment, while she wondered what she , 
ought to tell him about the cameo. 

“Certainly I have kept it all this time. I urged you to give 
it to me, and you do not suppose I was going to cast it lightly 
aside, do you?” 

“Perhaps not,” she answered, with downcast eyes; “but I 
hardly thought you would keep it in — in such a way; and — oh ! 
Mr. Sherbrooke, I have lost that lovely little cameo that you 
gave to me.” 

She looked up at him now, and he noted the troubled, even 
pained expression that was in her eyes. 

“Lost it!” he repeated; and although he did not intend it, 
his face clouded, whether from disappointment or some other 
feeling she could not tell. 

She could not bear that he should know how she had lost it, 
and she felt that she was guilty of no untruth when she ex- 
plained its absence thus. 

“Yes,” she returned. “Please do not think that I did not 
prize it, for I did more than I can tell you, and I hope even yet 
to be able to recover it.” 

He did not reply, but his face had grown grave, almost 
severe, and she imagined there was something of constraint in 
his manner at parting with her. 


A GLAD MEETING. 


130 

She felt that he was hurt by her seeming carelessness or in- 
difference for his costly little gift, and bitter tears kept welling 
to her eyes all the way home. 

I will have it again. I will go to Josephine and demand 
it. She has no right to it, for it is mine ; and if she will not 
gite it to me, I will appeal to Mr. Richards,'' she said, indig- 
nantly, to herself. 

‘‘I could not bear to tell him how I lost it," she thought, 
with rising color. ‘‘I do not wish him to know how I have 
been treated by my mother's relatives, or how bitterly I have 
been disappointed in my hopes since coming to this country. 
But," she added, with firmly compressed lips, “it will not be 
so much longer. In a little while I shall be independent of 
them all." 

She little imagined how soon she would be independent of 
them, or how it would be achieved. 

This was Thursday — she had first met young Sherbrooke 
the previous Friday, and there had not been the slightest cloud 
to mar their intercourse until now, though they had met 
almost every day — and Star went home feeling somewhat sad 
and depressed. 

But the next morning her sadness disappeared when Mr. 
Rosevelt told her that he was feeling so strong and well that he 
would like a change, and he proposed to go to New York and 
call upon their young friend. 

He had given Star his address, and when she left for school 
on Friday morning, it was arranged that Mr. Rosevelt should 
go to town that afternoon and she would meet him at Mr. Sher- 
brooke's studio after school and they would return together. 

It seemed, however, as if eveiy^thing went wrong for our 
young friend that day. Her mind, usually so keen and active, 
refused to work with its accustomed vigor, and she was listless 
and almost inattentive, much to the surprise of Professor Roberts 
and her other teachers. 


A GLAD MEETING. 


Her thoughts were playing truant, and half the time were far 
away in that artist studio where Mr. Rosevelt was visiting. 

When the hour came for her to join them, all her listlessness 
departed, and she was her own bright self once more ; and 
when, in answer to her gentle knock upon his door, Archibald 
Sherbrooke opened it to admit her, he thought she had never 
seemed so lovely before. 

He had begun to realize that the feelings wdth which he 
regarded her were something deeper and stronger than mere 
friendship called for — in fact, he knew that he loved her more 
dearly than any other object on earth, and that his heart had 
not really been his own, if the truth were known, since that day 
when they had parted on the steamer ; and he had that morn- 
ing come to the conclusion that the time should not be far 
distant when he should tell her in words of the emotions she 
had awakened in his heart. 

‘'This is a pleasure that I had not anticipated until about an 
hour ago,"' he said, with a brilliant smile, as he took her by the 
hand and led her into the room^ where she found Mr. Rosevelt 
reclining comfortably in a luxurious chair. 

“And this,’' Star said, looking around her with a long- 
drawn breath of delight as she noted the many beautiful paint- 
ings hanging on the walls, “is a pleasure which I had not 
anticipated.” 

“Ah! then it is my work which shall give you pleasure, 
rather than my society, as I had presumed to flatter myself,” the 
young man said, ruefully, and making a comical grimace, al- 
though his eyes were looking down into hers with an expression 
which made her tremble. 

She laughed, while a lovely color leaped to her face. But 
she tried to hide her embarrassment by retorting, archly : 

“I suppose I must be polite, and affirm that I expect to 
enjoy both ; but really, Mr. Sherbrooke, although I knew you 


132 


A GLAD MEETING, 


were an artist, I had no idea that you painted such delightful 
things. ” 

“You give me more credit than belongs to me,'' he answered, 
smiling; “but wait until you are rested, and then I have some- 
thing in particular to show you. " 

“Oh, I am not weary. Let me look now, if you please; 
we have only an hour, you know ;" and she began to move 
about the room, examining with no uncritical eye the works 
upon the walls. 

The young artist kept by her side, telling her the subjects 
of the paintings, and relating many instances connected with 
them. 

At length they came to a corner where there stood an easel, 
upon which there was a picture covered with a green cloth. 

Mr. Sherbrooke removed the covering, simply saying : 

“This is the picture that I particularly wished to show you." 

It was quite a large painting, and represented a young riian 
and maiden standing on board a steamer, while silver-tipped 
waves and a deep blue sky formed a charming background for 
their youthful figures. 

The former stood in an eager attitude, with one hand ex- 
tended, a smile on his handsome lips, a gleam of wistful ad- 
miration in his honest brown eyes, while his companion seemed 
to be clipping a tress from a massive braid of shining golden 
hair that hung over her shoulders. 

The fair young girl was a faithful representation of Star as 
she had appeared on that day, w'hich they both remembered so 
vividly, and in the act of severing that lock at his request. She 
stood with drooping eyes, a flush on her cheek, a half-smile on 
her beautiful scarlet lips, a shy and modest grace in her pos- 
ture, while her slender fingers daintily held braid and scissors. 

Archibald Sherbrooke watched her as she gazed upon his 
picture, his heart in his earnest glance; while Star, although 


A GLAD MEETING, 


133 

her eyes were riveted as if fascinated upon the familiar scene, 
could not say one word regarding it. 

He had made her very, very lovely, with that sheen upon her 
hair, those soft, bright curls lying low upon her forehead, which 
gleamed beneath them like purest ivory; with those half-averted 
eyes, in which the iris was just discernible, so richly blue, 

* ♦ “As if the sky let fall 

A flower from its cerulean wall 

with her delicate hands in their pretty act showing to such 
advantage, and her slight, willowy figure so gracefully posed — 
so lovely that she could not help the conscious blush which 
mounted to her temples, nor the quick heart-throbs which 
stirred the lace upon her bosom ; for something whispered to 
her that his hand had lingered fondly upon that picture, as if 
over a work that he had loved. 

*^What do you think of my work. Miss Gladstone he 
asked, gravely, and breaking the silence which was becoming 
oppressive to him. 

“It — it is very — correct, I think,” she faltered, with averted 
eyes and deepening color. 

An anxious gleam shot into his eyes at her reply. 

‘ “ Have I displeased you by putting it on canvas.?” he asked, 
earnestly. 

“N-o,” she returned, somewhat hesitatingly. 

“I fear 1 have,” he said, still more gravely than before. “Do 
not hesitate to tell me if you are offended, and I will obliterate 
it with one sweep of my brush.” 

His eye was full of pain, a deep flush burned on his cheek, 
while there was a thrill in his low, earnest tone that set her 
pulses bounding afresh. 

She glanced up at him, smiling slightly. 

“No, I am not offended,” she said; “but Fm afraid I ap- 
peared very fooUsb that day to offer you a tress of my yellow 
hair.” 


134 


A GLAD MEETING, 


Have I made the picture appear so?'' he asked, quickly. 

“No; you have made it altogether too beautiful," she an- 
swered, earnestly, and then was covered with confusion at having 
admitted so much. 

“Thank you," he said, brightly, his face clearing. “I could 
not do that, if I had spent twice the time I did upon it, and " — 
bending nearer to her, and speaking in a tender tone — “it is a 
picture that I painted for myself alone ; no one has ever seen 
it before, and I shall always keep it." 

He covered it carefully with the cloth again as he ceased 
speaking. 

“These are not nearly all my work," he said, as she turned 
to look at some others; “they are the united work of an old 
artist, ‘our master,' we call him, and of three of my friends — 
companion artists. We have been traveling together during 
the last ten months, and these pictures are some of the results 
of our pilgrimage. We are to return now in a couple of 
months, having spent our year in America both pleasantly and 
profitably, I trust. We had to make our headquarters some- 
where, so we took this room as a sort of studio, and thus put- 
ting our work all together, we manage to make quite a respect- 
able display. " 

“lam glad to have seen these pictures," Star said, “and to 
know they are all the work of my countrymen. I wish, how- 
ever, that /was going back to England in a month or two," she 
concluded, with a sigh, and a tear springing to her eye. 

“ Do you ?" her companion asked, eagerly. “ Then you have 
not become weaned from your native land ?" 

“No, indeed," she said, earnestly. “I love it as dearly as 
ever, and if I live I shall go back some day to my home." 

The young man bent, toward her, an eager light in his eye; 
his lips parted as if he were about to speak, but Mr. Rosevelt, 
from the opposite side of the room, suddenly addressed some 
remark to him, and he was obliged to turn his attention to him. 


'^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 


135 


CHAPTER XIV. 

‘*LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURE/' 

Before Mr. Rosevelt and Star left him, Mr. Sherbrooke 
arranged a little pleasure trip to Coney Island for the follow- 
ing day. 

^'I suppose, to-morrow being Saturday, you will have no 
school, Miss Gladstone," he said, with an appealing look at her. 

‘‘No; but I have a music lesson at nine," she answered, 
doubtfully. 

“Could you not arrange to postpone it for once.?" 

“I think not; the hour is engaged for me, and if I am not 
there I lose it. I should hardly like to do that, for I must 
make the most of my time this year." 

Star said this last m'ore to herself than in reply to him. She 
wanted to go — oh, so much ! — and yet felt that she ought not 
to lose her lessen. 

“Well, an hour will not make much difference; you will be 
through by ten. It will not be too late for our excursion then, 
and that will give us the best part of the day. The sail will be 
delightful, and we will, come home by moonlight. I speak for 
to-morrow, as I am to leave New York next week for awhile. 
I think you will go, Miss Star.?" Mr. Sherbrooke concluded, 
questioning!}’. 

“I think I should enjoy the trip very much," Mr. Rosevelt 
here interposed. “We’ll say ‘go,' little girl, for we have had 
no holiday this summer. Yes, yes, Sherbrooke, thank you, we 
will accept your invitation, and Star will, I think, be willing to 
shorten her lesson a trifle, so that we shall be able to leave the 
city by half-past ten. " 


136 


^^LET ME DEPICT POUR FUTURES 


Yes, Star said she would do that ; and the matter once 
decided, her face brightened and her eyes glowed with an- 
ticipation. 

She had not had a holiday that summer, as Mr. Rosevelt 
said; indeed, no one had planned a day’s pleasure for her 
before since she came to America, and the thought of this little 
excursion was very gratifying to her. A whole day spent in the 
company of Archibald Sherbrooke would be a “red letter day” 
to her; and so, with thrilling pulses and bounding heart, she 
took leave of him and went away with Mr. Rosevelt, to talk 
about it, to dream about it, and, girl-like, to plan how to make 
herself as charming as possible for the occasion. 

As for Archibald Sherbrooke himself, he sat down after his 
guests had departed, and allowed his thoughts to have their 
own way. 

“She is as lovely as a dream,” he murmured, watching her 
from the window as she tripped lightly along by Mr. Rosevelt’s 
side. “I did not think when I started for America that I was 
coming to meet my fate ; but so it proves. Unless I can win 
Star Gladstone’s love, the remainder of my life will not contain 
much that will be worth living for. She is as pure as a lily, 
beautiful as a veritable star ; and yet there is something that I 
cannot quite understand about her; there is a reserve, an occa- 
sional sadness, that seems strange in one so young, while once 
in awhile she lets fall a word which makes me fear her life is 
not as bright as it should be. There is something of a mys- 
tery, too, about Mr. Rosevelt. How sort of ‘seedy’ and 
neglected he looked to-day, and I judged, when I met him 
before, that he was a man of abundant means, and without a 
care, pecuniarily. 

“ How. startled my fair one looked when I showed her my 
picture,” he went on, with a luminous smile; “and I really 
believe that she realized something of the tenderness that I have 
put into it.” 


^^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURE: 


137 


He arose and went over to the easel, and removing the cloth, 
stood looking at the lovely girl with a world of affection in his 
handsome eyes. 

My glory-crowned Star,'' he murmured, I began to love 
you the moment that you fell exhausted into my arms when 
you were rescued from the hungry jaws of death, and I will 
spend my life in winning you if need be. 1 have seen no other 
woman your equal during all my sojourn in America — at least, 
no one who has so moved my heart — and I know of no one in 
all England whom I should care to win for my bride. 

‘‘Star Gladstone! It is a name symbolical of her nature," 
he said, unconsciously repeating what Mr. Rosevelt had once 
told her, “or I am no adept in reading character. She will 
crown my life with light, and bring gladness and beauty into 
my home, if I can win her ; and I think I am not mistaken in 
believing that I read the sequel to my own love-story to-day in 
her blushing face and shy, drooping eyes." 

Saturday came, and at an early hour Star awoke and arose to 
see what the morning promised, and to prepare for the antici- 
pated pleasure of the day. 

The sun rolled up from the east without a cloud, its light, 
a dusky red, tinging all the earth with a rosy hue — a sure har- 
binger of a hot, dry day, and just what Star of all things most 
desired. 

“Why.?" does curiosity question. 

Because her one best dress for summer had been a simple 
white lawn, which her own fair hands had fashioned in the 
most dainty manner, and she had nothing else really pretty 
to wear. 

“If I cannot have embroideries and laces, I can at least have 
ruffles and tucks, for they cost nothing but time and patience," 
she had said to Miss Baker, when the question “how it should 
be trimmed" came up for discussion ; and ruffled and tucked it 
was in the most artistic manner. 


138 *^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 

She ran down stairs to practice for an hour, after which she 
went to her breakfast, and confided to Mrs. Blunt the fact that 
‘‘she and Uncle Jacob'' were going to have a holiday — her 
throbbing pulses warned her not to mention the third member 
of the party, lest she should betray more than she cared to — 
and that good woman remarked, with characteristic emphasis, 
that “if she wasn't glad of it, she was much mistaken, and 
hoped she’d have the best time in the world ; she'd certainly 
had precious few good times since she came there." 

This duty over — for she did not feel right to be gone the 
whole day without telling some member of the family of her 
intention — she returned to her room to give her attention to 
that, for once with her, veiy important subject for considera- 
tion — her toilet. 

She arranged her shining hair with great care. It was her 
glory, and Archibald Sherbrooke had made it appear such in 
that picture which he had shown her yesterday, and which she 
now remembered with crimson cheeks and glowing eyes, as she 
brushed those shining strands until they gleamed like bur- 
nished gold. She then wove it into one massive braid, as she 
had worn it that day which neither of them would ever forget, 
and tied it a little way from the end with a fresh, delicate blue 
ribbon. 

This done, she donned the spotless white dress, with a broad 
belt of blue and its great bow on one side, and fastened a 
simple knot of the same at her throat, but heaving a regretful 
sigh as she thought of her precious cameo, and wished she 
could have had it to wear to-day. Then she tied a pretty chip 
hat, with its mull trimmings and bunch of forget-me-nots, over 
her golden head, and blushed rosy red at the vision of loveliness 
that looked out at her from her small mirror. 

Taking her roll of music, and throwing a fleecy shawl over 
her arm, she ran down stairs with a light, springing step, in- 


'^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 139 

tending to go to the lodge for a word with Mr. Rosevelt before 
she went to the station. 

“Where are you going, miss, rigged out in that style.?” was 
the rude query that saluted her ears as she came out upon the 
veranda and stopped a moment to fasten her gloves. 

Looking up, she saw Josephine sitting at one end of the 
porch, and half hidden by the luxuriant growth of vines climb- 
ing the trellis. 

Her radiant face clouded ; it seemed almost like an omen of 
evil to have her anticipations of pleasure broken in upon thus. 

“I am going to New York to take my music lesson,” she 
answered, touching the roll underneath her arm. 

“Do you always dress yourself out like that to take your 
music lesson? Perhaps you are trying to strike up a flirtation 
with Professor WhatVhis-name,” sneered the haughty beauty. 

Poor Star glanced down at her offending dress, an indignant 
flush rising to her cheek. 

The entire cost of it had been less than what Josephine was 
accustomed to pay for even a pair of shoes ; and yet she knew, 
without being told, that the gay belle, with all her expensive 
trappings, had never looked half so fresh and lovely as she did 
at that moment. 

Josephine realized it also, and her heart was filled with bitter 
envy and malice. 

“ Go back up stairs and change your gown,” she continued, 
angrily, without giving Star an opportunity to reply to her 
taunting remarks. “You have no business to go to the city, 
dressed as if you were going to a party.” 

Star s small head came up like a flash of light ; her eyes 
darkened and glowed with a sense of wounded pride and in- 
justice. 

She stood still a moment, her scarlet lips compressed until 
only a narrow line of red was visible ; then, in a calm, clear, 
but very decided tone, she said ; 


140 


ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURE. 


“You have no right to lav such commands upon me, Miss 
Richards, and I shall not obey you/' 

“ You insolent beggar ! what do you mean by answering me 
in this way?" began the astonished girl; but Star had glided 
down the steps, and was walking with a proud, elastic step 
down the avenue; consequently her rage was expended upon 
the empty air. 

But she was fairly startled by the exquisite loveliness of the 
young girl. She had never seen her dressed with so much care 
before, and had not dreamed of having such a rival in her own 
dwelling. 

Mr. Rosevelt was standing on the porch of the lodge when 
Star came along, and he, too, marveled at her exceeding beauty, 
saying to himself that he had never seen her so brilliant and 
spirited before. 

And, indeed, he had not, for she never had been so thor- 
oughly aroused before during all her residence in Mrs. Richards' 
family. 

“Good-morning, Uncle Jacob," she said, brightly, as she 
saw him standing there, and her indignation immediately began 
to subside. 

What was Josephine Richards that she should allow her to 
mar all the pleasure of her own holiday? — that she should drive 
the happiness from her heart, the sunlight from her face, when 
she was going to spend long hours of delight in Archibald 
Sherbrooke's presence? 

Nothing, save a coarse, rude girl, devoid of feeling or refine- 
ment; and with a resolute effort she drove her from her 
thoughts, the smile returned to her red lips, the light to her 
eye, as she ran lightly up the steps and stood beside Mr. 
Rosevelt. 

“ How well you are looking," she said, gayly. “I just ran 
down to see if you were all right, and to jog your memory 
about our little celebration to-day. " 


^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 


14I 

“You did not need to do that, Starling. I am as eager as a 
schoolboy for my day of pleasure,” he returned, with a fond 
smile, adding: “But how dainty you are this morning. I 
shouldn’t wonder if our artist friend would be wanting to paint 
the picture of a ‘star’ one of thesft days, eh.?” 

Star blushed and laughed lightly. 

She could have told him, had she chosen, that it was already 
painted. 

But she only charged him playfully to make himself look as 
young and charming as possible if he intended to be her escort 
to Coney Island ; then waving him a farewell, she tripped away 
with a smile on her lips, a song in her heart. 

He stood and watched her out of sight, murmuring, with 
something like regretful fondness : 

“My bright Star, somebody will \Nant something more sub- 
stantial than a painting if you are one-half as attractive in his 
eyes as you are in mine.” 

The little German professor of whom Star took music lessons 
rubbed his small fat hands with delight, his face dimpling all 
over with smiles, when she came like a ray of light into his 
room. 

“Ach! but der fraulein should have been called Miss Glad- 
heartj’ said, regarding her admiringly. “She is as bright 
as der day, as fair as der morn ; she is like a flower dot is 
newly bloomed.” 

Star laughed merrily. 

It seemed ludicrous enough to her to hear this fat little man, 
with his bald pate, his red face, dumpy legs, and his broken 
English — who scarce ever was known to express a thought that 
was not connected with music before — bubble over thus unex- 
pectedly with sentiment. 

“Oh, Professor Schwab, you overwhelm me!” she cried, 
gayly; “and I’m almost certain that your compliments will 
degenerate into a veritable scolding before I have been here 


142 


^^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 


fifteen minutes, for I fear I am not in very good order to-day ; 
my head is full of pleasure/' 

‘‘Pleasure is good now and then ; it is made for youth," the 
professor remarked, with a sigh, and a glance at Star’s bright 
face and dainty costume, as if he regretted that he was no 
longer young. 

“ I want you to let me go in just half an hour, for this is to 
be a holiday," Star said, as she removed her hat and gloves. 

“ Der fraulein shall do shust vat she pleases — I can refuse 
her netting to-day; but," he added, assuming a business-like 
air, “let her mind dot she keep her fingers right and der 
time goot." 

Star settled down at once to her work with such earnestness 
of purpose that she really outshone herself, executing her bril- 
liant and difficult exercises in a way that would have done 
credit to the composer himself. 

“Verra goot — excellent goot! Der heart is glad, her hopes 
are bright, and der work is well done. Miss Gladstone, in six 
months I teach you notting more ; you go to Germany— to 
Italy, to study," he said, his face beaming with satisfaction at 
her proficiency. 

Star thanked him with her brightest smile for his praise, and 
then left him with a light heart ; and when she reached the 
place appointed as the rendezvous by Mr. Posevelt and Mr. 
Sherbrooke, this latter gentleman also thought her the fairest 
object he had ever seen, and knew that, as he clasped her small 
hand, his eyes were betraying that old, old story of which his 
heart was so full. 

The sail down the river was even more charming than they 
had anticipated. The day was perfect, the air being just cool 
enough to be exhilarating, while our trio of friends were in a 
mood to enjoy everything in the way of pleasure that might 
present itself. 


^<LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 


143 


They reached the island about noon, when Mr. Sherbrooke, 
ordering a carriage, they drove directly to Manhattan Beach 
Hotel, where they partook of a sumptuous dinner, and thus 
fortified, sallied forth to enjoy the beauties and attractions all 
about them. 

A couple of hours were spent in visiting the different objects 
of interest, and then Mr. Rosevelt said that he should be obliged 
to give up and take a rest. 

So Mr. Sherbrooke ordered a room for him at the hotel, and 
he went to ‘'take a nap,'' while the young man, with a feeling 
of exultation that now he should have Star all to himself, took 
a carriage for a long drive upon the beach. 

For miles and miles they drove over the smooth, hard road, 
both in their happiest mood, and giving themselves up to the 
enjoyment of the hour. 

Every moment spent in Star s society only served to entangle 
our young English friend more securely in the meshes of love's 
net ; while she began to realize that the ^vorld would never be 
quite the same again to her when he should be gone and no 
prospect of their meeting again. 

" He is going away next w^eek," she kept saying again and 
again to herself, while a chill pain gnawed at her heart. “How 
can I bear to have him go, and feel that I may never see him 
again } Oh, England, my home ! my home I would that I also 
could go back to you !" 

So intense was her longing for her home, so keenly did she 
regret this parting, which she felt was inevitable, that the tears 
sprang into her eyes, and a deep sigh came welling up from 
her burdened heart. 

“Miss Star, why that doleful sigh.?" exclaimed Archibald 
Sherbrooke, in surprise. 

Star started, and looking up, found her companion’s eyes 
fixed upon . her with grave questioning. 


144 


^*LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 


She colored vividly, fearing he had read something of her 
thoughts. 

Did I sigh ?” she asked, evasively. 

‘‘Yes; and I did not like the sound of it, either. Are you 
tired of driving.? Shall we go back and try something else.?’' 
he asked, only anxious to give her pleasure. 

“Oh, no; this is delightful,” she answered, quietly. “I fear 
I have been guilty of rudeness if I have given you the im- 
pression that I am not enjoying every moment of this lovely 
day. Do you know, Mr. Sherbrooke,” she asked, with a smile 
that had a tinge of sadness in it, “that I am indebted to you 
for the only real holiday that I have had since I came to 
America.?” 

He regarded her with surprise. 

“Is it possible.?” he asked. “ I fear, then, that you have not 
had a very happy life during the last year, or else you are work- 
ing too hard over your books.” 

She feared she had betrayed more than she ought. She did 
not want him to know how hard life had been made for her. 
She was too proud to complain of the ill-treatment, the cold- 
ness, and even dislike which had been her lot, where she had 
expected to find only kindness, love, and sympathy. 

'‘^Yhave been woiking pretty busily,” she answered, as if 
that were all. “ I am anxious to graduate this year, and I 
have to apply myself rather closely with my music and other 
duties.” 

“ Why are you so anxious to graduate this year? Why not 
take more time, rather than run the risk of injuring your 
health .?” he questioned, gravely. 

“lam going back to England some time,” she said, her eyes 
kindling, “and the sooner I can complete my education, the 
earlier I can go. I have my own future to carve out, Mr. Sher- 
brooke, and my aim is to prepare myself for a teacher.” 

“Your own future to carve out !” he cried, greatly surprised. 


*^LET ME DEPICT YOUR FUTURES 145 

thought you had friends here who were to care for you 
always. 

She colored, but answered, gravely : 

‘‘I should not be content to pass my life here. I shall stay 
only long enough to complete my education ; then I shall go 
back to my own country to teach.'" 

He understood her; he saw, even though she would not 
confess it, that her life since coming to America had not been 
a happy one. 

He saw now, as he looked down into her face, so fair and 
beautiful, what he had not noticed before, she had always been 
so bright and animated when with him. 

There was a wistful look in her eyes, lines of sadness about 
her sensitive mouth, that told him of a heart yearning for love 
and finding only husks to feed upon. 

She was going to be a teacher, she said ; she was bending all 
her energies in that direction, and was working, he felt assured, 
far beyond her strength. 

She did not look fit to fight the battle of life alone ; she was 
slender and delicate, although he felt that, in spite of her fragile 
appearance, there was an element of strength in her character 
which would overcome every obstacle which it was possible for 
a human being in her position to overcome. 

She had “ her future to carve out,"' she had told him. What 
did she intend that future to be.?^ — what were her hopes, her 
aims, her plans ? Surely not to teach always. 

Ah, if she would but learn to love him — if he could win her, 
it would be very different from the wearying, dragging life of a 
teacher. 

Before he was hardly aware of his intention, his heart had 
overleaped every barrier, he bent toward her and said, in a low, 
earnest tone : 

** Star, I love you. Let me depict your future for you,” 


146 


A FATAL MISTAKE. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A FATAL MISTAKE; 

The beautiful maiden cast one startled glance up at her hand- 
some lover, and then grew colorless as the dress she wore. 

But when he softly laid his hand upon hers, saying, gently, 
“Darling, I have frightened you with my abruptness,’' her 
whole being thrilled beneath his touch, and the rich crimson 
swept swiftly up over neck, face, and brow, until it lost itself in 
the fluffy masses of sunny hair which lay upon her forehead. 

“I could not help it,” he went on, a glad light leaping to 
his eyes as he saw her blushes; “and I have known that I love 
you, my beautiful one, for a long time. Do you remember 
that it was I who received you into my arms when you were 
lifted to the deck of our steamer from that frail boat in which 
you so nearly perished.^ Do you know that your fair face lay 
upon my breast, and as I looked down upon you, / knew that 
no other had ever moved me so strangely and so deeply, despite 
its pallor and the tale of suffering that I read there.? Its power 
grew upon me during the few days which followed and while 
we were so much together, and when at last we were obliged 
to part, and I begged a tress of this sunshine” — touching the 
massive braid which lay over her shoulder almost reverently — 
“the picture that you made, with your shy grace and modest 
beauty as you unhesitatingly clipped it for me, stamped itself 
indelibly upon my heart, where I have carried it ever since, 
growing to love it more and more, until I determined to make 
it always mine by putting it on canvas. I did not know as I 
should ever see you again, and yet I have been haunted by a 
feeling that some magnetic influence or strange power of attrac- 


A FATAL MIS TA ICE. 


147 


tion would eventually draw us together again; and so it has 
proved. Star, I know that I love you as deepl}^ and truly as it 
is possible for one human being to love another. You say you 
love England ; you wish to go back and make your home 
there. Tell me that, some day, / may take you there — that my 
home shall become your home, and you will be my cherished 
wife. My darling, you have made yourself very fair to-day — 
so like the picture I have painted, and which I showed you 
yesterday, that something has whispered to me that a thought 
of me prompted it ; that there was something of tenderness in 
your heart which made you put those shining locks, which you 
have been wearing in another fashion of late, into this massive 
braid again, and tie it with this lovely blue, so like ycur eyes. 
Raise them, dear, and let me look into them, to see if I can 
read anything of the story I wish to know. Tell me. Star, that 
when I come to America again, I may come to claim this hand 
and call its owner my wife. '' 

His hand had rested lightly upon hers all the time he had 
been speaking. She had not attempted to withdraw it, and now 
his fingers closed over it in a firm, loving clasp. 

It still lay trembling but unresistingly there; and when, as 
he bent to look into those drooping eyes, she lifted them to his 
wdth one shy glance of answering tenderness, he knew that he 
had not sued in vain. 

“My own darling !” he whispered, passionately, his face flush- 
ing with happiness; “you do love me; I read it in your eyes, 
and the world was never so bright to me as at this moment; 
but tell me, shall I have what I want — will you give me your 
promise that, next year, when you have completed your edu- 
cation, instead of going back to England as a teacher, you will 
go with me as my wife.?’' 

She grew suddenly grave, and lifting an earnest look to his 
face, said : 

‘ ‘ I have told you that I am only a poor girl, with my own 


A FATAL MISTAKE, 


148 

fortune to carve out. You have no idea how poor I am, how 
dependent, hoM friendless. You, perhaps, have proud rela- 
tives ; you may occupy a place far above me socially, and your 
friends might object to your claiming one in my position as 
your wife.’' 

“I care nothing for your poverty or dependence, dear,” he 
returned, tenderly; ‘-it cannot alter the fact that you are the 
only woman whom I shall ever love well enough to make my 
wife. But,” he added, with a thoughtful look, ‘‘I forget that 
1 am almost a stranger to you — that you know nothing of me, 
that I have told you nothing ” 

“ I have not given it a thought,” Star interrupted, earnestly. 
“I can trust you ; I know you are true.” 

His face grew radiant. 

“You will never regret your trust, my darling,” he said. 
“ I — am an artist. Star, but I believe I can take care of you, 
and promise you that you shall never know the meaning of the 
words poor and dependent again. Of course I have friends, 
and — but I will tell you all about them some other time. I 
want my promise now — you will give yourself to me, dear?” 

“Yes,” she breathed, her scarlet lips parting slightly with a 
tremulous smile, ‘‘by and by, when I am better fitted to be 
your — wife.” 

He longed to take her in his arms and draw her to his heart, 
and kiss the lips that had promised him the greatest joy he had 
ever known ; but there were other carriages near, and curious 
eyes all about them ; so he could only clasp that small hand 
more fondly, and murmur low and tender words to tell of the 
deep, true love of which his heart was full. 

“You shall indeed go back to England now, my darling,” 
he said, “but never to teach. You shall remain here until you 
have completed your course of study if you wish ; then I shall 
come, before this time next year, and take you to my — our 
home. I shall return with a happy heart now, for I shall have 


A FATAL MI3TAJCE. 


149 


an object to work for and something to look forward to. Ah, 
my dear, my dear, do j^ou realize what is in store for us? — a 
long life of joy and love together, with brightest hopes and con- 
genial tastes. Star, my beloved — my s/ar, indeed r 

Who can wonder that she gave herself up to the bliss of 
loving and being loved, when wooed in this tender manner? 

Who could chide this heart-hungry maiden, who had been 
starving for affection and sympathy, for feeling that she had 
never known happiness before? 

And she loved him with all her soul. He had won all the 
passion of her young heart, and she gave herself up to him 
wholly, unreservedly, trusting him without a suspicion or 
thought that he could be anything save truth and honor itself. 

Twilight was beginning to gather when they returned to the 
hotel where they had left Mr. Rosevelt, but it was not yet so 
dark but that that gentleman remarked the glorified expression 
of the young man's face, and the brilliant light which gleamed 
in Star s radiant eyes. 

“ May I tell our dear old friend, Star?" Archibald Sherbrooke 
whispered, as he assisted her to alight from the carriage. 

She started, and grew crimson. 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Sherbrooke, not to-night, please." 

“To whom are you speaking, my Star?" he interrupted, with 
assumed sternness and reproach. 

She glanced up questioningly, yet with burning cheeks, for 
she knew what he meant, but was not quite sure yet what he 
wished her to call him. 

“My mother calls me Archie," he said, with a meaning 
smile. 

“ Must / call you that?" she asked, her heart thrilling at the 
name, yet instinctively shrinking from addressing him quite so 
familiarly just yet. 

“There is no 'must' about it, nor about anything else that 


150 


A FATAL MISTAJCE. 


you do not like, my darling,” he said, very gently, but looking 
a trifle grave, she thought. 

‘‘Then please let me go— Archie, fori know Uncle Jacob 
is wondering why it takes me so long to get out of the carriage, 
and — and ever so many people are looking at us,” Star said, 
wishing she could hide her hot cheeks, and realizing, if he did 
not, that he was holding her hands a great deal longer than 
there was any need of doing. 

A brilliant smile parted his lips as he released her, and she 
darted away just as a servant came forward to take the horse, 
he following more leisurely to give her time to recover herself 
a little. 

“You have enjoyed your drive, little one.?” Mr. Rosevelt 
asserted, questioningly, as she came and stood beside his chair, 
while he regarded her with a keen glance. 

“Very much, Uncle Jacob ; and you — are you rested?” Star 
asked, eager to turn his attention from herself. 

“Entirely, and am as hungry as an old bear, too. These 
sea breezes have sharpened my appetite to a painful degree,” 
he replied, as if his hunger was the only subject which occupied 
his thoughts, while all the time he was watching her closely, 
and telling himself that there must be some cause more potent 
than “sea breezes” for her brilliant color and that tender light 
in her eyes. 

“I am delighted to hear it,” young Sherbrooke said, now 
joining them, “for our tea is waiting for us, I am told, and we 
shall have just about time enough to dispatch it comfortably 
before the boat is due.” 

They went in to an inviting meal, spread in a private room 
for them. The young man had given an order to this effect 
before going to ride, as he had noticed that Star was annoyed 
at dinner by the attention which her lovely face had attracted. 

But it was noticeable that Mr. Rosevelt did most of the eat- 
ing, for our lovers were in altogether too exalted a state for such 


A FATAL MISTAKE. 


151 

commonplace realities as bread and butter, or even for anything 
so tempting as peaches and cream. 

When Mr. Rosevelt’s hunger was appeased, he asked Star to 
play something before they left. 

There was a piano in the room, and he was extremely fond 
of music. 

want our friend here to know what a talented little musi- 
cian we have,'' he said, with a fond glance at his favorite. 

Star was only too willing to comply with his request, glad of 
anything to relieve the awkward consciousness which had per- 
vaded. her all through tea, and sitting down to the instrument, 
^he played several pieces. 

Archibald Sherbrooke was astonished at the proficiency which 
she displayed, and the appreciative silence which prevailed 
upon the veranda outside the open windows, told that her 
power had swayed a larger audience than she had thought of 
having. 

‘'She is mine; I have won her, this talented, beautiful, pure- 
hearted girl," Archibald Sherbrooke said, exultantly, to himself, 
as he closed the piano for her, and pressed the hand that hung 
invitingly near him. 

They repaired to the boat-landing soon after, for it was nearly 
time for their departure. 

When the steamer arrived, Archibald found a sheltered seat 
for Mr. Rosevelt, and then drawing Star a little apart, wrapped 
her shawl carefully about her and sat down beside her, her hand 
clasped in his under cover of its soft folds. 

“He will not mind, and I want you to myself," he whis- 
pered. “I cannot see you to-morrow, love, for it will be 
Sunday, but Monday or Tuesday I shall come to you. I can- 
not wait longer." 

Star glanced at him somewhat anxiously. 

She knew what that coming would ent9.il upon her— sneers 


152 


A FATAL MISTAKE, 


And taunts, and perhaps more unkindness than she had ever 
yet received from Mrs. Richards or Josephine. 

Mr. Richards, she felt assured, would be more considerate 
of her feelings ; yet, under any circumstances, this visit of her 
lover would be a very trying one. 

Ah ! how trying. Heaven only knew. 

She thought perhaps she ought to tell him something of her 
life during the last year, that he might not be wholly unpre- 
pared when he should present his suit for what she feared would 
be a very disagreeable interview. 

But she was so supremely happy sitting there by his side in 
the glorious moonlight, and knowing that she was so tenderly^ 
beloved, that she could not bear to mar it by so much as a 
word or thought of what she had suffered in the past, or might 
have to endure in the future, until he should come for her to 
claim her as his wife. No, she would not tell him ; she would 
wait until after he had been presented to her guardians. There 
would be time enough then, and it would be just as well. 

But it was a fatal mistake. 

Had she told him then, all the pain and anguish, all the 
misery and hopelessness which she afterward experienced would 
have been spared her; but how could she know.? 

So they sailed on up the river, side by side, hand clasped 
in hand, and thought only of the supreme happiness of the 
moment. 

It was one of those beautiful fall evenings, calm and still, 
and bright with an almost intoxicating brilliancy ; the heavens, 
the river, with its gliding banks on either side, all lighted with 
a radiance that was absolutely dazzling; and Star wondered if 
ever in all her life before she had seen the world sc wondrously 
beautiful. 

“Monday or Tuesday you are coming to Yonker*^.?" Star mur- 
mured, in reply to this remark of her lover's. “I thought you 
were to be away from New York next week?" 


A FATAL MISTAICE. 


153 


‘'And so I am; I am coming to Yonkers to see you,” he 
answered, smiling. “My darling,, do you not know that all 
the world is changed for me now?” 

It certainly was for her, she thought, with a tender little 
smile, and then she said : 

“ Have you a card and a pencil? I must tell you where to 
find me, you know.” 

“True. How stupid of me not to have thought of it,” he 
returned, as he searched his pockets to find what she wanted. 

“I thought it better to write it than to tell you,” she said, 
archly, “fearing you might forget.” 

“I own that I am not in a condition to remember anything 
to-night, save that you love me and that I have won you,” he 
whispered, putting pencil and card into her hand. 

She wrote the street and number of the house where she 
lived, and gave it back to him, and he put it away without even 
looking at it. 

And thus the moments sped swiftly on until they landed, 
and that delightful homeward sail was over and had become 
one of those events to be remembered and treasured when, in 
the dark future, they should look back upon it and wonder 
if as bright a gleam of happiness had ever really existed in 
their lives. 

Mr. Sherbrooke accompanied Mr. Rosevelt and Star to the 
station where they had to take the train for Yonkers, and found 
comfortable seats for them. 

“ I shall see you again very soon,” he said to the old gentle- 
man, as he took his hand at parting. 

“ I trust so. We shall be glad to see you at any time ; and 
many thanks for this day’s pleasure,” Mr. Rosevelt replied, 
heartily. 

“The obligation is all on my side,” Archie said, with a 
meaning glance at Star, which made the color come again and 
her heart to bound like a roe in her bosom. 


154 


A GREAT SHOCK. 


The bell warned him that he must go, and with a lingering, 
loving pressure of her hand, he reluctantly bade them a final 
gcod-night and went away. 

The young girl had no idea of the lapse of time after that, 
until she heard Mr. Rosevelt heave a long-drawn sigh. 

She started, realizing then that they were almost home, and 
that she had not spoken one word since her lover left them. 

“Uncle Jacob, are you very tired she asked, anxiously, 
and with a feeling of self-reproach. 

“No, dear; only thinking how beautiful the world is under 
some conditions, how dreary under others,'' he returned, watch- 
ing her intently. 

The young girl’s cheeks glowed hotly, but she had not a 
W'ord to say in reply to those sentiments. But she knew that 
the events of that day had glorified the whole world for her, and 
all the way home she had been weaving golden plans for the 
future, when Archie — it came easier every time now — should 
take her to his simple home over the water — for of course it 
must be simple, since he was only an artist — and which she 
would make just as bright and beautiful as love and taste could 
make it. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A GREAT SHOCK. 

The next morning, on descending to her breakfast. Star 
found the whole house in a state of great excitement. 

On asking Mrs. Blunt the meaning of it, that good but evi- 
dently much disturbed woman informed her that a “real live 


A GREAT SHOCK, 


155 


English lord was expected to arrive the following day, and Mrs. 
Richards had given orders that everything be done up in the 
grandest style possible. 

''A lord.?'’ Star said, smiling — she had seen many a lord, and 
had not been very crushingly impressed with a sense of her 
own inferiority and insignificance in consequence — ‘"a lord, 
Mrs. Blunt.?’' she repeated, laughing. ‘'You will find him 
simply a man, very much like the rest of mankind. He will 
eat, and sleep, and talk, and walk exactly like anybody else. 
But what may his lordship’s name be, and what brings him 
here.?” she concluded, with some curiosity., 

“Lor, Miss Star, you take it pretty coolly, or I’m much 
mistaken,” Mrs. Blunt remarked, with an admiring glance at 
the girl’s bright face; “but I suppose it’s because you’re accus- 
tomed to seeing ’em, being English yourself. But a lord is 
considered some pumpkins on this side of the water — at least, 
madam appears to think so, since he was courting Miss Jose- 
phine all the time down at Long Branch, and she hopes to have 
him*for a son-in-law one of these fine days.” 

Star looked surprised at this bit of information. Mrs. 
Richards and Josephine had been home a week, and she had 
heard nothing of this before, although the subject had been 
pretty thoroughly discussed among the servants of the house- 
hold. But she had been so intent upon her studies and music, 
going from home so early and returning so late, and keeping 
her own room so much, that it was nothing strange. 

“Is Miss Josephine engaged to him.?” she asked. 

“Couldn’t say positive. Miss Star, as to that; but if she 
ain’t, she’s expecting to be, and doing her prettiest to catch 
him, or I’m much mistaken. She’s talked of nothing else 
since she got home ; and the beautiful dresses she’s bought, 
and the grand things she’s been planning to do when he comes, 
would fill a book if rightly writ up. It’s a mystery to me how 


156 


A GREAT SHOCK, 


anybody so grand and mighty can walk on two legs like the rest 
of us common mortals/' she concluded, with grim humor. 

Star laughed merrily. 

Evidently Mrs. Blunt, as a loyal subject of a democratic 
country, did not look forward to the advent of this young sprig 
of nobility with very much relish. 

‘‘You have not told me his name yet," Star said. 

“Carrol — my Lord Carrol, of Carrol ton, Derbyshire, Eng- 
land, and goodness knows what else," Mrs. Blunt replied, 
spitefully, but with a toss of her head so exactly in imitation 
of Josephine when that young lady went soaring among the 
clouds, that Star was infinitely amused. 

“Lord Carrol, of Carrolton," she repeated, reflectively. “I 
have never heard of any one by that name, and we lived in 
Derbyshire, too ; but of course there are a great many people 
there of whom I know nothing." 

“That’s true, no doubt; but his being a lord don't make 
him any the better worth your knowing, according to my way 
of thinking. But, gracious me ! I mustn’t stand here talking, 
when there are such heaps of work to be done ;" and the ex- 
cited woman began to bustle about the room with decidedly 
more of energy than grace. 

“ Now, Mrs. Blunt," Star said, picking up an apron and tying 
it around her slim waist, “since you have such ‘heaps' to do, 
let me do something to help you." 

“Bless you, child! you sha'n't touch a thing. You ain't 
going to spoil those pretty fingers for the piano, lord or no lord. 
I was baking and preserving all day yesterday, and had no time 
to make the black cake that madam gave orders for, so I sup- 
pose I’ve got it to do to-day, if 'tis Sunday." 

“And you’ve got all those raisins to seed, those currants to 
clean, and that citron to slice. It is too bad, Mrs. Blunt, and 
on this holy Sabbath, too," Star said, gravel/, while she heaved 


A GREAT SHOCK. 


157 

a regretful sigh as she glanced from the window and saw the 
bright sunshine tinting everything with a golden light. 

Can't help it; its got to be done," the housekeeper re- 
sponded, grimly. “I expect, "she went on, her thin lips curling 
with a curious expression of scorn, “if madam don't work her- 
self on Sunday she thinks she's keeping the Sabbath in a proper 
manner and according to law and gospel, no matter how much 
her servants may have to do. I've a notion that perhaps her 
Bible don't read like mine; that part where it says ‘thou, nor 
thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant,' must have been left 
out of those velvet covers of hers. But you go away. Miss 
Star. If I’ve got to break one of the ‘thou shalt nots,'you 
ain't going to be a partner in my sin," she concluded, as the 
young girl sat down to the table and began to open a large 
package of raisins which lay there. 

“No, indeed, Mrs. Blunt, I am not going away; I am going 
to help you ; and if we work nimbly together, perhaps we can 
get through in season to go over to the chapel for evening 
service ;" and she pulled out a great bunch of the fruit and 
began to pick it from the stems. 

“Miss Star, I couldn’t consent to it no way; I couldn't have 
it on my conscience that you should do it," the woman returned, 
real distress pictured on her honest face. 

“Now, be reasonable, Mrs. B., do," Star said, coaxingly. 
“If you had so much to do yesterday that you couldnt do this 
work, and it must be done to-day, I shall not feel that I am 
doing anything wrong to help you, and Fm going to.” 

“Well," the housekeeper said, with a sigh of resignation, 
“that cake has got to be baked to-day, and it would take me 
six mortal hours to clean that fruit alone, let alone the making 
and baking. I'm sure it’s real good of you to offer to help me, 
but — there are your fingers. Miss Star " 

“I know it, and nimble ones you'll find them, too," inter- 
rupted the young girl, smiling. “Now, don't raise any more 


A GREAT SHOCK. 


158 

objections, there's a good soul, for I may have to do this kind 
of work for myself sometime,” she went on, with a slight flush, 
and drooping her white lids to hide the happiness in her eyes, 
'‘and I should really like you to teach me how, although I 
must confess Sunday would not be the day that I should choose 
on which to learn to cook and, without more ado, she bent 
over her self-imposed task, while Mrs. Blunt turned aside to 
heave a sigh of relief and wipe a tear from her eyes; “for,” as 
she told the house-maid afterward, “it was no fool of a job to 
get nine pounds of fruit ready for cake, and the day had 
looked longer than the first twelve chapters of Chronicles, with 
their sons and son’s sons, which her father had made her learn 
when, as a child, she had played truant from her Sunday- 
school. ” 

Hour after hour Star patiently worked with the tired woman, 
helping to stone the raisins, stem the currants, and slice the 
citron; and when at last the fragrant fruit was all mixed and 
floured ready for the cake that was to test the digestive organs 
of the notable lord, she beat the eggs, browned the flour, and 
waited upon the housekeeper until the savory mess was finished 
and put in the pans. 

“Two mortal hours it will take me to bake it, and then 
it will be ready for the confectioner to ice,” she said, as she 
slipped it into the oven and shut the door upon it with a sigh 
of relief. 

“Blessings on you, child,” she added, gratefully, “for your 
kind heart and willing fingers, and when you’re married, if I’m 
living. I’ll make your wedding-cake for you.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Blunt; I shall not forget your promise, 
you may be sure,” laughed the happy girl, as, flushed and tired, 
but with a light heart after the performance of a kind act, she 
sought her own room to rest and think of the manly lover who 
was to come in a day or two, and to wonder if Mrs. Blunt 
would really make her wedding-cake. 


A GREA T SHOCK. 


159 


She could not feel that she had been guilty of any wrong in 
lending her aid to the weary and overworked woman below, 
even though she had spent long hours of that Sabbath in labor ; 
and when, as the evening bells called to prayer, and the glorious 
harvest moon came sailing up from the east, flooding all the 
earth with beauty, they wended their way together to the chapel 
of which Star had spoken in the morning, and where she loved 
to go because everything was so quiet and unostentatious, a 
peculiar peace seemed to pervade her heart, and a voice, as of 
some angel, to whisper the benison '‘well done/' 

Monday all day the greatest excitement prevailed, as on the 
preceding day,' in the Richards' mansion, for its ambitious mis- 
tress had determined to make a favorable impression upon the 
young lord whom she was anxious to secure as a son-in-law, 
and accordingly spared neither pains nor expense to make her 
house and hospitality as imposing as possible. 

Star was away, as usual, all day at school, and therefore was 
not mixed up in the confusion ; but; upon her return, she 
could imagine something of what had been done, for the house 
was a perfect bower of beauty, and order, and cleanliness from 
top to bottom. 

Flowers of the choicest description were everywhere; fresh 
draperies had been put up wherever they were needed, and 
most tastefully arranged ; the servants were all arrayed in im- 
maculate suits, and went tiptoeing around with that air of 
importance and expectancy which betrayed the interest they felt 
in the arrival of an English peer; while Mrs. Richards and 
Josephine v/ere perfectly gorgeous in new dresses of latest 
fashion and most artistic design. 

The coach, with its burnished trimmings and its span of 
spirited bays in their gold-mounted harness, was standing before 
the door, ready to go to the station to meet the expected guest; 
and with all these evidences of preparation around her. Star 


i6o 


A GREAT SHOCK, 


would have been less than human not to have experienced 
some curiosity regarding my ^‘Lord Carrol, of Carrolton/' 

‘‘ Well, it may be one of the ‘good times that I can’t be in,' 
as poor Glory McGuirk would say ; but then I had my good 
time yesterday, and I don’t know as I care very much,” she 
thought, with a smile half sad, half tender, as she watched the 
carriage containing Josephine and her father whirl away in 
grand style to the station. 

However, thinking it might be expected of her to make a 
good appearance in case she should happen to meet the dis- 
tinguished stranger, she changed her school-dress for a fresh, 
blue lawn, trimmed with a dainty white edging, spanned her 
small waist with a broad belt, and fastened a bunch of waxen 
snow-drops at her throat. 

She had no jewels, no elaborate lingerie like Josephine with 
which to make herself attractive; but she had a way of giving 
herself such a touch of elegance with these little accessories, 
despite her simple attire, that no one could pass her by un- 
noticed ; and now, with that new-born smile of happiness on 
her ripe lips, that light of love and hope in her eyes, and 
the coming and going color in her cheeks, she was fairest of 
the fair. 

When her toilet was completed she sat down by her win- 
dow — which, although in the third story, was upon the front 
of the house, where she could look directly down upon the 
porch, and also commanded a view of the winding avenue 
which led down to the road — to watch for the return of the 
coach and the coming of the illustrious guest. 

Sitting there, she fell to musing — to thinking of the time 
when she should go back to dear old England, the land of her 
birth, the home of her love. 

Only a few months more and her course of study would be 
finished; a little more of faithful application to her books, a 


A GREAT SHOCK, 


i6i 


little season of patience and forbearance, then a life of bright- 
ness and happiness. 

Some one would come for her then, and she would go away 
forever from the slights, and sneers, and malice which had made 
her life so cheerless and forlorn, so hard to endure during the 
past year. 

So absorbed did she become thinking of this, that she did 
not hear the carriage when it turned in at the gate and came 
smoothly rolling up over the hard, graveled drive-way, and it 
had almost reached the door before she was aware that at last 
the noted, titled stranger had arrived. 

She leaned out to look as the spirited horses were reined in 
before the porch, and the sound of laughter and gay voices 
came floating up to her ears. 

A tall, darkly clad figure sprang out and held forth a hand 
to assist Josephine to alight ; but a massive post was in the way, 
and she could not see his face. Mr. Richards followed the 
young people, and they all passed up the steps together. 

It was a pretty picture that she looked down upon, for now 
she could see all that transpired. Mrs. Richards, handsome as 
any queen in her elegant black silk dress and duchesse laces, 
her diamonds gleaming like drops of dew in a moonlit night; 
Josephine, bright and sparkling in an elaborate street dress, 
with her jaunty hat and bright plumes, standing proudly beside 
the finely formed young man as he exchanged greetings with 
her mother; and Mr. Richards, stout and comely, a perfect 
pattern of the hospitable host, with his good-natured face, which 
was expressive of a most cordial welcome. 

But Star had grown suddenly pale as snow, and caught her 
breath convulsively, as a clear, manly laugh rang out on the 
air at some jest of Josephine's, and then the stranger turned, 
hat in hand, having made his bow to his hostess, to speak to 
Mr. Richards, and thus she could look directly into his face. 

There was a look of horror in her eyes as they were fastened 


i 62 


HAS HE DONE THIS THING? 


upon that handsome face, her lips were drawn and pinched, 
and the pain that was clutching at her heart betrayed itself in a 
low, sobbing moan. 

There was no mistake — although she could scarcely credit 
her own senses —she knew that dark, chestnut-crowned head, 
that handsome, smiling face, that straight, stalwart form but too 
well, even though a cruel mist was creeping up before her eyes 
to hide him from her sight. She knew that clear, ringing 
voice, even though the roaring sound in her ears seemed 
striving to drown it. Josephine's guest — her accepted lover 
she had tried to make it appear — the titled stranger. Lord 
Cairol, of Carrolton, was no other than her betrothed^ Archibald 
Sherbrooke! 


CHAPTER XVn. 

*'WHY HAS HE DONE THIS THING.?" 

What could this strange thing mean .? What was Archibald 
Sherbrooke — the man who, two days before, had told her that 
he loved her and no other — doing there in that character of 
Lord Carrol? Why was he there, laughing, chatting, and ex- 
changing greetings in that familiar way with Mrs. Richards and 
her family? 

Star’s heart nearly ceased its beating ; she grew faint, giddy, 
and absolutely soul-sick. Her face paled until it was as white 
as those cold, waxen berries at her throat ; her very life-blood 
seemed to be congealing. 

What could it mean ? 

Looking down upon the little group, she saw that Josephine’s 
eyes weie fastened upon him — her lover — with an expression 


163 


HE DONE THIS THING?" 

that there was no mistaking. It was full of pride and wistful 
affection. Her voice was low and sweet when she spoke to 
him, her laugh silvery clear as it rang out upon the still even- 
ing air at some light jest of his ; and Star knew that she loved 
him deeply, passionately; that she would stop at nothing to 
win him, if, indeed, he was not already won. Oh, what — what 
could it all mean.? 

It was cruel, cruel as death, to have her short, bright dream 
shattered thus ; to have given all the wealth of her warm young 
heart to the handsome young stranger who had called himself 
Archibald Sherbrooke, and now to discover him to be a myth — 
that there was no such person, that she had been made the 
plaything of an idle hour. And yet it had all appeared so 
real ; he had seemed so true and loyal, and to have loved her 
so fondly. 

But stay — might she not be jumping to conclusions, after all? 

A different solution to the mystery flashed into her mind. 
She started eagerly up, the color coming back to her face, a 
joyful light flashing into her eyes. 

Archie had told her that he should ‘‘come to her Monday or 
Tuesday — that he could not wait longer;'’ but she had not 
thought he would come to-night. She did expect him to- 
morrow, and perhaps he had arrived. 

On the other hand. Lord Carrol had, perchance, disappointed 
his friends. They had gone to meet him, and had not found 
him as they expected. 

Archie, very likely, had taken the same train from New York 
that his lordship had intended to take, and on arriving had in- 
quired of some one for the street and number that she had 
written on the card for him ; the individual whom he asked 
might have known it was Mr. Richards’ residence — for he was 
well known there — directed him, and he, on learning the man’s 
errand, had probably, with his usual good nature, invited him 
to take a seat in his carriage, and had driven him home 


1 64 HAS HE DONE THIS THING r' 


Thus she reasoned with her aching, fear-burdened heart, 
clutching at this little ray of hope as a drowning man clutches 
at a straw. 

But he did not appear like a stranger to any of them ; neither 
did Josephine seem like the disappointed girl she probably 
would have been if her expected lover had not arrived. She 
was chatting and laughing with him in the most friendly way ; 
her face was glowing with happiness ; her tones and her laughter 
were musical from very joy. 

With these doubts mingling with her sudden hope, Star 
leaned forward, eagerly listening for him to inquire for her; 
but the words which came floating up to her smote her heart 
with a deadly pain, drove the color back again from her face, 
and made the love-light in her eyes change to a look of mortal 
agony and despair. 

“My lord,” Mrs. Richards said, graciously, “we will not 
keep you standing here; the drawing-room, where we have 
other friends waiting to meet you, is more inviting, and our 
dinner will soon be served.” 

And my lord, with his most charming smile and bow, 
replied : 

“Mrs. Richards, you have given me a most hospitable wel- 
come to your delightful home, and I shall be happy to meet 
your friends;” and giving his arm to Josephine, he followed his 
hostess within, to be presented to the other guests who had 
been invited to meet him. 

All hope was gone now — they had called him Lord Carrol 
and he had replied", and, stricken with despair. Star slipped 
from her chair like one from which all life had been suddenly 
smitten, and fell prone upon the floor, where she lay in a semi- 
conscious state for more than an hour. 

But when at length thought and feeling began to return to 
her, she wondered if she were herself or some one else who 


HAS hE DONE THIS THING? 


165 


had lived through a century of misery — youth and happiness, 
joy and hope seemed to be attributes of an age so long gone by. 

Why has he done this thing?’' she moaned, sitting up and 
clasping her icy hands across her burning brow. ‘‘Why has 
he deceived me thus, making a fool and a plaything of me 
merely to pass an idle hour? Why did he call himself Archi- 
bald Sherbrooke, when he is Lord Carrol, of Carrolton. Why 
could he not have left me alone when I was content with my 
music, my studies, and my simple life? Oh! why need my 
whole future be blighted thus? I could have gone on my way 
— I could have carried out my plans and gratified my ambition 
to become a teacher and be independent, and believed myself 
happy, if he had left me to myself. But now — if I could only 
die — if I could even go mad — anything to make me forget how 
I have allowed myself to love him, and built all my future 
hopes on his love for me \” 

The sound of gay voices and laughter came floating up to 
her from below as she sat there mourning her blighted life ; it 
smote her like the stab of a knife, and she shivered from head 
to foot, every nerve cringing with keenest pain. 

In imagination she could see how Josephine was assuming 
her most bewitching airs to win the treacherous man who had 
blotted out every hope of joy from her existence, and who, per- 
haps, was bending over her, speaking soft and tender words, 
even as he had done to her only two days ago. 

Yesterday and the day before she had lived upon the moun- 
tain-tops — “upon the heights" — where life had seemed opening 
out before her like a paradise ; to-night, in a single moment, 
she had been hurled into the very depths of misery. 

She got up from the floor, tottered to the window and shut 
it. to keep out those hateful sounds from below which nearly 
drove her into a frenzy ; then, too weak to sit up, she crept into 
her bed, where she lay shaking as with an ague and moaning 
with pain all the long night through. 


1 66 ^^WHY HAS HE DONE THIS THING r* 

Morning found her burning with fever, with an aching head 
and a crushed and breaking heart. 

She could not rise, and, although faint, the very thought of 
food filled her with loathing, and yet her throat and mouth 
were dry and hot with a terrible thirst. 

Thus good Mrs. Blunt found her about ten o’clock. She 
had missed her from breakfast — something very unusual, for 
Star was as prompt as the day itself generally — but she had 
not had time to inquire into the cause of her absence until 
now, for there had been lively doings down in her department 
that morning. 

Merciful sakes alive ! whatever in the world has happened 
to you. Miss Star?” she cried, when, on thrusting her heated 
face in at the door, she saw the young girl in her wretched con- 
dition l>ing on the bed. 

‘‘I believe I do not feel very well this morning,” Star said, 
wearily. 

I should think not, indeed I You’ve got a high fever, and 
yet you’re shaking wich the cold. Goodness gracious, child ! 
and you all dressed out like this, too! What has happened?” 
Mrs. Blunt cried, aghast, as she pulled back the coverlid and 
saw at a glance that she had been lying all night in her 
clothing. 

Star was too miserable to explain, as the good woman saw, 
and she did not press her with questions; but with nimble yet 
tender hands she removed her clothing, replacing it with her 
robe de nuitj and then wrapping her in a heavy blanket, she. 
tucked her snugly into bed once more. 

She then went down below, where she prepared a steaming 
drink of some kind, with \vhich she hastened back to her 
patient, and insisted that she should drink it — every drop.” 

The poor child obeyed, feeling too wretched to offer any 
objections; and then saturating a napkin with camphor and 
water, Mrs. Blunt bound it about her aching head, and dark- 


^^WHf HAS HE DONE THIS THING r* 


167 


ening the room, bade her go to sleep again as quickly as 
possible, for of course school was not to be thought of that 
day; and indeed Star had forgotten the existence of such an 
institution. 

The hot drink warmed and soothed her, while the kind 
attention of the woman comforted her ; and exhausted nature 
asserting itself, she soon dropped into a profound slumber. 

It was late in the afternoon when she awoke again, and 
realized that she was much refreshed physically, although her 
burden of misery was still crushing down upon her heart. 

Mrs. Blunt found her as white and wan as she had been 
flushed and feverish, when she looked in upon her again just 
before dinner, and she could not understand the look of hope- 
less despair that lay in her usually bright and joyous eyes. 

‘‘Whatever in the world is the matter with you. Miss Star?"' 
she asked, anxiously. “It'll be bad luck for me if you're going 
to be sick, for since you came into the house, with your bright 
face and cheery ways, the days and months have grown shorter 
by half. Come, come, chicken, don't look so downcast; it 
breaks my heart to see you so white and drooping. " 

“ I shall be all right by to-morrow, Mrs. Blunt. I am better 
already, thanks to your kind care," Star returned, sitting up in 
bed and trying to bring her shattered nerves into better order. 
“If you will please hand me my school dress," she added, “I 
think I will get up and take a run down to the lodge. I have 
not seen Uncle Jacob since yesterday morning, and he will 
wonder what has become of me." 

“Indeed, child, you mustn’t go out to-night, and as for Mr. 
Rosevelt, he knows all about you already. I sent word to him 
before noon that you wasn’t able to go to school, and he’s been 
up to the house twice since to inquire for you. He sets a store 
by you, Miss Star, and I believe it would break his heart if 
anything was to happen to you. " 

A wan little smile flitted over Star's face. 


i68 


^^fV//y HAS HE DONE THIS THING 


It was about the only ray of light or comfort that she had in 
her great darkness — this knowledge that there was one who did 
really love her, and to whom she also was almost a necessity. 

She could rely on Uncle Jacob,'’ if upon no one else, and 
she longed to go to him and lean upon him now in her trouble. 
Of course she could not tell him how she had let handsome, 
fascinating Archibald Sherbrooke win her heart from her, and 
then found all too late how cruelly she had been deceived. 
She was so thankful now that she had not allowed him to tell 
Mr. Rosevelt as he had wished, though, perhaps, that had only 
been another ruse of his, and he had not intended to tell him, 
after all ; but it would be a comfort to go down to the lodge 
and see him, and listen to the kindly tones of his voice. 

Mrs. Blunt helped her to dress, for she saw that she was glad 
to sit down by the window — though she shuddered as she re- 
membered that she had sat just there last night when her heart 
had been broken — and rest, while she began to fear that she 
should not be able to get down stairs, after all, that night to go 
to see Mr. Rosevelt. 

Mrs. Blunt watched her closely with those small, keen eyes 
of hers, and saw that her trouble was more of the mind than 
of the body, though what could have caused it was a puzzle 
to her. 

She did not trouble her with conversation, but after making 
her room tidy, she went quietly out and left her alone. She 
re-turned after a little while, however, bringing her a bowl of 
hot soup and a plate of nice little biscuits. 

“You are very good to me, Mrs. Blunt," Star said, grate- 
fully ; and she ate the soup with a relish, for she was very 
faint and hungry, while the housekeeper looked on with a 
satisfied air as she saw a tinge of color coming back to her 
pale face. 

“Somebody else was good to a poor old woman yesterday, 
or I’m much mistaken, and I reckon it'll take a good while for 


HAS HE DONE THIS THING 


169 

you and me to be quits on that day’s work,” the kind-hearted 
creature returned, a tear starting to her eyes as she remem- 
bered hew bright and happy the fair girl had been during 
those long hours while she had worked so busily and patiently 
with her. 

But she could not stay with her, much as she wished to do 
so, and try to bring back her truant smiles, for her many duties 
called her below, and she went away, cautioning Star to be very 
careful and not take more cold. 

Left alone, the unhappy girl felt that she must get out and 
away from that close room where she had suffered so much; 
she must do something to make her forget, or her brain would 
be turned. 

So, wrapping a shawl about her, she stole down a back way, 
out by a side door into the grounds, and taking a circuitous 
path, made her way as rapidly as her strength would permit 
toward the lodge. 

She had accomplished about half the distance when her 
limbs began to fail her, and she became so weak and faint from 
the exertion she had made that she was obliged to stop and 
lean against the trunk of a large tree to rest awhile. 

It was nearly dark, for the sun had gone down and the heavy 
foliage of the surrounding trees made deep shadows all about 
her; the air was chill with the breath of the frost spirit — so 
different from the mild loveliness which had prevailed only 
forty-eight hours before— and the rustling leaves above her 
seemed mourning over the /ate awaiting them, when its cold 
hand should sway their frail stems and lay them low. 

A feeling of unutterable woe overcame her— such a sense of 
loneliness and desolation that she could not bear it ; and cover- 
ing her face with her hands, she gave way to the flood of tears 
which would not be restrained. 

She had no idea how long she wept — time, place, everything 
was lost in the utter abandonment of her grief— until she was 


HAy HE DONE THIS THING?'' 


170 

aroused, and a thrill of terror went tingling through all her 
nerves, as a hand fell suddenly yet lightly upon her shoulder. 

With a start, her hands dropped from her tear-stained face 
and she looked up, to find the grave, questioning eyes of her 
faithless lover looking down into her own. 

A low cry of surprise and dismay escaped him as he recog- 
nized her. 

‘‘Star! My darling, what does this mean?’' he asked, in 
astonishment. “ How came you here, and why do I find you 
grieving thus? You look more like some stricken white dove 
than like my bright, beautiful star. I was coming to you to- 
morrow — I wanted to come to-day, but I could not. Tell me, 
dear, how is it I find you here in the grounds of Mr. Richards, 
where I am visiting?" and he would have gathered her into his 
arms, but by a quick movement she evaded him, and stepping 
back a few paces, she confronted him with a haughty uplifting 
of her small head, her face and eyes glowing with scorn and 
indignation. 

“To-morrow you would have come to me," she repeated, 
with curling lips. “ Pray, where would you have sought me?" 

“ Here in Yonkers, at No. 56 street. I think that was 

the address you wrote on the card," he said, apparently be- 
wildered by her strange conduct, and regarding her with a 
troubled look. “I wanted to go there to-day, but there has 
been no opportunity," he said again. “And to-morrow I was 
intending to ask Mr. Richards to direct me to the address 
which you gave me. " 

“Do you know the street and number of this residence?" 
Star asked, sternly. 

“No. When it was arranged that I should come here to 
make a short visit, Mrs. Richards was so kind as to say that her 
carriage should meet me at the station, so that I do not even 
know the name of the street on which they live. " 

“Then to-morrow, when you should ask to be directed to 


*^WHY HAS HE DONE THIS THING? 


the address which I gave you — if, indeed, you intended to ask 
for it — you would have been told that you would find me here 
in this place — this house. Mr. Richards’ residence is No. 56 
street,” Star said, proudly and coldly. 

She had no faith in him ; she believed he was acting a part. 

“ Impossible !” he cried. ‘‘I never dreamed of such a thing. 
Why, then, have I not seen you.-^ Why were you not with the 
family when I arrived last night? Why have I not seen you 
to-day?” he asked, as if more and more astonished. 

‘‘ Because,” she answered, her voice rising, with a scornful, 
bitter ring, am a dependent upon the bounty of the rich; 
because I am a burden and expense in a house of luxury, and 
only tolerated on account of a promise made to my dying 
father and to cancel a debt due to my mother. You have 
not seen me, because I am not allowed to breathe the same 
air, eat and drink, and sit at the same table with those who 
think they are of finer mold than 1 . But it is just as well, 
my lord ” 

'' My lord !” he repeated, in a startled tone, interrupting her. 
‘‘Star, that from youT 

She laughed bitterly, lifting her head with a haughty gesture, 
though her face gleamed like a piece of marble in the waning 
light. 

‘‘Yes, that from me!” she said. “Fortunately, I was at a 
window above the entrance when you arrived last evening, and 
witnessed the honors that were heaped upon my Lord Carrol, 
of Carrolton, and the revelation of your true character, although 
a sudden and bitter one to me, was, perhaps, after all, a provi- 
dential one ; for, if it showed me how I had been duped and 
betrayed, how I had been made the plaything of an idle hour, 
it also gave me time to collect my scattered senses a trifle before 
meeting you and telling you how I scorn you for ” 

“Duped! betrayed! plaything! Star, listen to me,” pleaded 


172 


HAS HE DONE THIS THING r* 


the young man, his breath almost taken away by these startling 
accusations and by her wild words, so full of derision and pain. 

“I will not listen to you !” she cried, passionately; I have 
listened to you too much already. Oh ! why did you do this 
wicked thing? Why could you not have left me alone? Had 
you not enough already, with your riches, your title, and your 
life of pleasure, without coming in cruel sport to spoil a poor 
young girl's life? Was it not enough that you could woo and 
win the heiress, the belle and beauty of Long Branch, without 
the amusement of trying to win and break my poor heart?" 

‘•'Star! Star!" he cried, drawing nearer the excited girl. 
“What wild, wild words! Every one is like a dagger plunged 
into my heart. You do not know what you are saying, dear. 
I try to win and break your heart ! My poor darling, you have 
been misled by having learned of my title. I should have told 
you before, but " 

“Then you are Lord Carrol? You own it — you. acknowl- 
edge it?" Star interrupted, with a ring of wild despair in her 
tones. 

When she had looked up into his face, into his kind and 
loving eyes; when she had heard his voice, so low and eager, 
yet tender; when he had called her “his poor darling," and 
said her words were like a dagger plunged into his heart, her 
own had begun to thrill anew, and she almost hoped against 
hope that there was after all some mistake, in spite of what she 
had seen and heard. 

But now he owned it. He was not Archibald Sherbrooke 
at all ; he was the titled peer, and he had sought to win her 
love under false colors ; and all the pain, and bitterness, and 
scorn returned, even while she waited breathlessly for his 
answer. 

“Yes, I am Lord Carrol, ofCarrolton; but. Star " 

“That is enough ; I want to hear no more," she said, stop- 


HAS HE DONE THIS THING 


173 

ping him with an authoritative gesture of her white hand. '‘I 
will not listen to another word from your traitorous lips V 

She turned proudly from him and would have left him, but 
he sprang forward and seized her hands. 

They were cold as ice and shaking as with palsy, and he was 
shocked by the hopelessness visible in her face as he looked 
down upon it. 

“Star, my darling,"' he began, in a voice that was almost 
stern from emotion; “you shall listen to me. It is my right 
to be heard, and I can explain everything to you if you will but 
give me the opportunity." 

But she would not. Pain, despair, outraged pride and affec- 
tion made her unreasonable and almost insane. 

She flashed a haughty glance up at him. 

“ Lord Carrol, " she said, in her iciest tones, “release my 
hands, if you please." 

He dropped them as if they had been coals of fire, and drew 
back a pace or two from her, deeply wounded, w'hile his own 
face was nearly as white and pained as hers. 

“Star, you are wronging me more than you dream. Surely 
you will listen to my defense," he said, and his voice trembled 
with suppressed feeling. 

Oh, how she longed to yield and allow him to win her back; 
how she longed to let him take her into his strong arms, and 
hear him murmur again those tender words such as he had 
spoken to her so recently ; but, remembering his attentions to 
Josephine last night, her looks of affection and pride, her 
bright face and happy laugh — remembering what she had heard 
regarding his devotion to her at Long Branch, and the reason 
that had been given for his coming there to her home, she 
could not. 

He had played the role of rich lover to the proud heiress ; * 
he had acted that of a poor sweetheart 'with her; for had he 
not told her he was an artist, but hoped to be able to take care 


174 


HAS HE DONE THIS THING? 


of her, so that she need never know the meaning of the words 
poor and dependent again ; and now, with all this evidence 
before her, how could she help believing him false to the core — 
to have simply amused himself at her expense? 

‘‘You can have no defense to offer me, and I will hear 
nothing,” she returned, coldly. “You have deceived me most 
cruelly ; you came to me as Archibald Sherbrooke ; you used 
all your powers of fascination to make me love you as a poor 
artist, while you had already played the part of a rich lover in a 
different character at a fashionable watering-place. I congratu- 
late you upon your marvelous success as an actor, my lord,” 
she concluded, with scathing sarcasm. 

A deep sigh broke from him ; her words hurt him keenly, 
for he was very proud. 

But he saw how she was suffering, and he tried to be patient 
with her, feeling sure that if he could only make her listen to 
him all would be well. 

“ My dear,” he said, gently, “you do not understand. Pray, 
let me tell you all about it. I swear that I am both ” 

“You need not swear; I know enough already. Go back 
to my more fortunate cousin. Miss Richards, whom the whole 
household expects you intend to make Lady Carrol. She, I 
own, is better fitted to be the bride of a peer of England than 
the poor alien who is a burden upon her bounty. She will 
grace your proud home and name with her beauty; she will 
add to your riches with her wealth. But let me tell you ” — 
and Star had no idea how superbly beautiful she was as she 
stood so proudly before him and uttered this prophetic sen- 
tence — ‘‘that the girl whom she has despised and insulted, 
whom you have deceived, and whose life you have blighted by 
your treachery, will yet rise to a position that shall shame and 
humiliate you both. Go back to her, I say, and — ask her for 
the cameo which you gave me. I told you that I had lost it. 
I put it that way because I did not like to tell you how badly I 


EXPLANA TIONS. 


175 


had been used by those who should have given me only sym- 
pathy and love; but she — the girl whom you have come to win 
for your wife — stole it from me, my one little treasure, the only 
ornament I had which I could wear in my humble position, 
and which I prized more than anything else in the world. But 
let her keep it ; I relinquish it freely, now that I have dis- 
covered the baseness of the giver. My Lord Carrol, of Carrol- 
ton, alias Archibald Sherbrooke, the artist, I despise you, and 
I bid you farewell !” 

She was gone before he could hardly realize that she had 
ceased speaking ; she had sped down the avenue with the light- 
ness and swiftness of a fawn, leaving him dazed, bewildered, 
almost paralyzed from the wild words, the terrible denunciations 
which she had uttered. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

EXPLANATIONS. 

**Star! Star! my dear love, come back and let me undeceive 
you,'' he called aloud, as soon as he could recover his senses 
sufficiently to speak. 

But there was no answering sound, save the sad sighing of 
the rustling leaves which had so unnerved the unhappy girl a 
few minutes before. 

He followed the direction she had taken. He wandered 
about the grounds for full half an hour, but could discover no 
trace of her ; and at last, feeling greatly disturbed, he was ob- 
liged to retrace his steps, and returned to the mansion. 

He had strolled forth at the close of dinner to smoke, and 


176 


EXPLANATIONS. 


to get away for a little quiet musing, for he had intended, as he 
said, to seek out his beautiful love on the morrow, and put 
upon one of her white fingers the seal to their plighted troth, 
and, this done, to tell her that he was both an artist and a peer 
of Victoria! s realm. 

During his stroll, and while thinking fondly of the bright 
girl, he had unconsciously strayed into the very avenue where 
Star had stopped to rest. 

Wrapped in her heavy shawl, and with head bowed upon her 
hands, he had not recognized her, but thought it might be one 
of the servants, perhaps, who had got into some trouble. 

Always ready to relieve suffering of whatever nature, he 
stepped up to the sobbing girl and gently laid his hand upon 
her shoulder to attract her attention, and when the tear-stained, 
suffering face of his own love was lifted to his, his astonish- 
ment rendered him speechless for the moment. 

But it was a fact, nevertheless, that he had appeared in dif- 
ferent places in different characters — he was at once Archibald 
Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton; how, we must let 
his own words explain, 

“Poor child! it is very awkward, and I never dreamed of 
any such denouement ; but I cannot blame her. If she would 
but have given me one moment in which to tell her how it is; 
but she was wild with pain,” he said, with a troubled face, as 
he slowly went back to the house. 

It is doubtless now made plain to the reader how he had 
happened to recognize the cameo ring upon Josephine's hand 
at Long Branch, and knew at once that it was the very stone 
which he had given Star at parting on shipboard. 

He did not like to question Miss Richards about it, but he 
was deeply hurt when she told him that it had been given her 
by a relative, for he felt sure that he could not be mistaken in 
the stone — there could not be another like it, for he had de- 
signed the figure upon it himself. 


EXPLANATIONS, 


177 


Yet, to be quite positive about it, he had told her that it had 
belonged to a gentleman named Archibald Sherbrooke; and 
then when he saw her start, and the color flame into her face, 
he knew that Star had parted with it for some reason or other. 
It had caused him a pang to know that she should have prized 
it so lightly as to give it away, while he had treasured that lock 
of gold as one of the most precious things in his possession, 
and had learned to love the face which he had painted as he 
never expected to love any object on earth. 

Then he had met Star, and she had told him — not that she 
had given his gift away, but that she had ‘‘lost'' it. 

The two stories did not agree, but looking into her glorious, 
truthful eyes, he had believed her, and felt that some time she 
would make the mystery plain. 

He had told her, on parting from her Saturday evening, that 
he should come to her Monday or Tuesday, and he had really 
intended doing so, and was deeply disappointed at not being 
able to keep his promise. 

But all day Tuesday he had seen no time that he could 
escape from the company of which he seemed to be the center. 
He had about made up his mind to ask Mr. Richards to direct 

him to No. 56 street after dinner, and go away to spend a 

quiet evening with Star ; but Mrs. Richards upset this plan by 
laying out a programme in which he would be obliged to figure 
largely, and he was forced to bear it with what patience he 
could, hoping that the morrow would bring him the oppor- 
tunity he desired. 

He had never imagined that he could be a guest in the very 
house which he was so anxious to visit, and which was the 
home of his beloved ; and now the knowledge was not pleasing 
to him, for Star's bitter words, and the fact that she had not 
mingled with the family, told him but too plainly how she was 
undervalued there. 

How she must have suffered, sitting at her window, as she 


178 


£XPLA2^AT/0NS. 


said she had done, and been a witness to the reception which 
had been tendered him by her proud, cold-hearted relatives; 
and to have been led, too, by them to believe that he had come 
there as a suitor for Josephine s hand. 

This had been rather a startling and unpleasant revelation to 
him, for he had never once imagined that any such construction 
would be put upon his visit there. 

He had been drawn toward Mrs. Richards upon first meeting 
her, for she was really a fascinating woman, and upon learning 
that she was of English extraction, and that he knew some- 
thing of her relatives, he at once felt almost like an old ac- 
quaintance, and in this way had been led to attach himself to 
her party. 

Josephine was a brilliant and attractive girl, and had made 
herself very agreeable to him, and he liked her as a friend and 
acquaintance ; but no thought of love for her had ever entered 
his mind. That fair face, with its crown of gold, its starry 
eyes and coral lips, which had lain upon his breast at sea, 
ha.l made too deep an impression upon his heart to be easily 
forgotten. 

But now, just as he thought he had won her — when he was 
on the verge of claiming her, he found himself in deep waters, 
from which he feared it might be somewhat difficult to extricate 
himself. 

Star had a right to denounce him, believing what she did. 
He had parted from her on Saturday evening as Archibald 
Sherbrooke and her accepted lover, while on Monday she had 
seen him driven in great style to the Richards' mansion, and 
greeted as Lord Carrol, and a suitor for the brilliant Josephine’s 
hand. Surely circumstances were against him. 

“I must get out of this muddle as soon as possible,” he said, 
as he ascended the steps and paused a moment on the porch to 
consider what he ought to do. 

Entering the house, he avoided the drawing-room, where a 


EXFLANA TIONS. 


179 

gay company was assembled, and passed on to a music-room 
which led into the library. 

Mr. Richards was in the latter room, seated at his desk, and 
the door between the two was open. As he saw his lordship, 
he arose and came forward to meet him. 

“Can I have a few moments’ conversation with you?” the 
young man asked, gravely. 

“Certainly; as many as you wish. Shall we retire to the 
privacy of the library?” returned Mr. Richards, who at once 
jumped to the conclusion that he was about to receive a formal 
proposal for the hand of his daughter. 

So also thought another listener, who happened to be stand- 
ing on the veranda just outside the open window of the music- 
room, and who had caught the above sentences. 

“ No/’ Lord Carrol returned. “What I have to say can just 
as well be said here as anywhere. I find myself unexpectedly 
in a very unpleasant situation, and I have come at once to you, 
because I consider a straightforward course the wisest always to 
pursue. I wish to tell you a little story, and then ask your 
assistance in correcting an awkward mistake.” 

“Anything that I can do for you, my lord, I shall be most 
happy to do,” blandly affirmed Mr. Richards, little realizing 
what he was promising, while he followed the young man’s 
example and sat down to listen to his narrative. 

“I came over from England, nearly a year ago, on the 

steamer ,” he began, “and on board that vessel 1 met a 

young girl of great personal beauty and intelligence, in whom 
I became intensely interested. She could not have been more 
than sixteen years of age, but her mind was far in advance of 
both her appearance and her years, while it was evident that 
she had been reared with great care, for every word and act 
betrayed her to be a perfect little lady, and every day spent in 
her society only served to make her more attractive in my sight 
At parting, I gave her a trifle as a souvenir of our pleasant 


i8o 


EXPLANA TIONS. 


acquaintance, and asked in return for something to keep in 
memory of her. I did not know that I should ever meet her 
again, and had I not done so, the remembrance of what I had 
enjoyed in her society would eventually have become, it is 
probable, but d pleasant episode of the past, although I must 
confess that her face haunted me continually. 

“But I did meet her again, and only a very short time ago. 
She had changed — developed into even greater beauty, and had 
become more mature, and I began to realize at once that I had 
even a deeper interest in her than I had imagined possible. 
Subsequent interviews — for I took pains to see her often — and 
the study of her character, convinced me that I had found the 
woman whom I could love with all my heart, and whom I 
should win for my wife if I could.” 

A rustling of the drapery at the open window just then made 
the young lord pause ; but hearing nothing more, he thought 
the wind had simply stirred the curtains, and continued : 

“Within a very few days I have brought things to a crisis — 
have, in fact, asked and secured a promise from her to become 
my wife as soon as she shall have completed her education, and 
I had intended to-morrow to seek an interview with her friends 
and make formal proposals for her hand. 

“This may sound rather strange to you, knowing my posi- 
tion, and realizing something of the prejudice of the English 
against marrying outside the pale of their own rank. But I was 
convinced from the first that this young girl was of good blood 
and parentage, and upon a more intimate acquaintance with 
her, I have learned that her mother was an English lady from 
an excellent family. 

“Now, what I have to tell you,” Lord Carrol continued, 
with a smile, “has a slight touch of romance connected with 
it. When I left England, I came away known as Sir Archibald 
Sherbrooke, baronet. Two months after my arrival here, I was 
notified of the death of my mother’s only brother — Lord Carrol, 


EXPLANA TiONS. 


l8l 

of Carrolton — and who, being a widower and childless, willed 
his estates and all that he possessed to me, with the provision 
that I was to assume his name, and consequently his title. 

“It would have suited me better to travel and remain plain 
Archibald Sherbrooke, as I always called myself, until my re- 
turn ; but I was with a company of friends — all artists, who 
were traveling and studying with an old painter — who knew all 
the circumstances, and they would not hear a word to my 
remaining incognito, and insisted upon introducing me every- 
where by my newly acquired title. 

“As plain Archibald Sherbrooke, I met, wooed, and won 
the young lady of whom I have told you, but I intended, when 
I formally asked for her hand, to reveal the circumstances 
which have made me Lord Carrol. I have not for a moment 
thought of deceiving her, for I abhor double-dealing of any 
kind; but, notwithstanding, I find myself in a very awkward 
situation. 

“You will, perhaps, be surprised to learn that to-night, since 
going out after dinner, I met my betrothed by accident, and. 
very much to my astonishment. She had discovered that I 
have been sailing ‘under two flags,' or, as she supposed, under 
false colors. She had heard of my meeting your daughter at 
Long Branch as Lord Carrol, and the report seems to have pre- 
ceded me, much to my surprise" — here the young man colored 
from embarrassment — “ that I intended something more than 
a friendly visit here, and she has passionately denounced me for 
my duplicity — as it appears to her — and refused even to allow 
me to explain my position. 

“This is the mistake that I wish you to help me rectify by 
securing an interview for me with her, so that I can exonerate 
myself from all blame in her sight." 

Mr. Richards was greatly astonished at what he had heard, 
and in no small degree disappointed, for he liked the young 
man, and his wife had affirmed that Josephine was the magnet 


i 82 


EX PLANA TIONS. 


that had drawn his lordship thither, and she had also con- 
fidently asserted that he would propose for her hand before 
he left. 

But, of course, he could not betray anything: of this feeling, 
after having been made th® confidant of another love affair; 
therefore he said, with as much self-possession as he could 
command : 

“The situation is somewhat unpleasant for you, I admit, 
my young friend, but I think it may be easily made right. I 
must confess I am much surprised by what you have told me; 
the story is certainly romantic in every respect. And you met 
the young lady by accident to-night.? She is, then, a resident 
of Yonkers. Who may she be? Perhaps she is no one whom 
I know.” 

“She is Miss Gladstone, and your wife's ward, I believe,” 
Lord Carrol replied, and bending a grave look upon his host. 

Mr. Richards nearly bounded from the piano stool upon 
which he had been sitting at this startling intelligence, while 
outside that open window there was a sound as of some one 
weakly sinking into a chair. But both gentlemen were so 
deeply engaged in the subject under consideration that they did 
not appear to hear it. 

“Star!” ejaculated Mr Richards, when he could recover his 
breath. 

“Yes, sir; Miss Star Gladstone is the lady of whom I have 
told you,” Lord Carrol replied, somewhat coldly, for he could 
not understand why any one so lovely and accomplished in 
every way as Star was should have been so slighted and ill- 
treated in his family. 

“ But I do not understand — I cannot see — I — I beg pardon ; 
but, to tell the truth, I am completely taken aback by what 
you have told me,” Mr. Richards stammered, for it was to him 
a most astounding revelation. 

“I expected that my communication would surprise you; 


EXPLANATIONS. 


183 

but you cannot be more so than I was upon learning to-night 
that Miss Gladstone is a member of your family/' returned his 
lordship. 

'^But you tell me that you were intending to call upon her 
friends to-morrow, and here you have been in the same house 
a day and a night already." 

“True; but I was not aware of the fact until within the last 
hour. Miss Gladstone gave me her address last Saturday even- 
ing. Here it is; you can read it. It was late when I asked 
for it, and she wrote it hastily upon this card." 

The young man passed it to his companion as he spoke, 
and Mr. Richards read the street and number of his own 
residence. 

“You will remember," Lord Carrol continued, “that I am 
an entire stranger in this place, and that I do not even know 
the name of the street upon which you reside, as Mrs. Richards 
was kind enough to say that some one should meet me at the 
station upon my arrival. I wished very much to go to Star 
to-day, but courtesy demanded that I should not dissarrange 
Mrs. Richards' plans. I fully intended, however, to ask you to 
direct me to the place designated on that card to-morrow, never 
once suspecting that I was already in the house where the lady 
of my choice resides." 

“And has Star never mentioned our name to you .?" Mr. 
Richards asked. 

“No; she has been very reticent regarding everything con- 
nected with herself save her studies and her music, and I have 
not thought to question her on that point." 

Mr. Richards' face clouded. 

Star had good cause for being reticent, he knew, and the 
subject was becoming an awkward one for him. 

“You say you met her to-night.?" he said. 

*'Yes; I went cut for a stroll and a smoke after dinner, and 
came upon her suddenly in the grounds. She appeared to be 


EXPLANATIONS, 


184 

greatly distressed, and I, never suspecting the cause, pressed her 
to tell me. She turned upon me like an outraged queen, and 
denounced me in a manner that fairly took my breath away. 
She believed me to be simply Archibald Sherbrooke, an artist, 
until last night, when she saw me driven to your door and 
received as Lord Carrol ; and, having heard exaggerated reports 
of my attentions to Miss Richards while at Long Branch, it is 
not strange that she should resent the seeming deception, for 
appearances are certainly against me. But a few words will 
set everything right, if you will explain something of this to 
her and secure an interview for me.’' 

“Then it is our Star whom you want to marry, my lord," 
Mr. Richards said, reflectively, and as if he could hardly com- 
prehend it even yet, while he wondered if they could ever live 
through the tempest which his wife would surely raise when she 
should discover that Star had won the lover whom she was 
bending all her energies to secure for Josephine. 

“Yes, hoping for your sanction, of course," Lord Carrol 
answered, with a rising flush, for he could read something of 
what was passing in his host’s mind. “But, pardon me," he 
added, fixing a look of grave questioning upon his face, “now 
that I find she is the ward of your wife, I cannot understand 
why I have not met her with the other members of your 
family." 

“Ahem ! Well," began Mr. Richards, with evident embarrass- 
ment, “she has been very deeply engaged with her studies ever 
since she came to us — is ambitious, you know, and also spends 
a great deal of her time practicing music, and my wife thought 
it would be best for her not to — to mingle in company much 
until she had — um ! — completed her education ;" and Mrs. 
Richards, sitting just outside that open window, where she had 
heard every word of the above conversation, thanked the fates 
that for once her husband had smoothed awkward things over 
for her quite comfortably. 


EXPLANA TIONS, 


185 


Lord Carrol simply bowed in reply to this statement. It 
would not become him to question the truthfulness of what he 
had heard, but since his interview with Star, his opinion of the 
family had changed very materially. 

“Well, I am nonplussed, and I reckon that this state of 
affairs will create quite a commotion when it becomes known,'’ 
Mr. Richards resumed, after a few minutes of thought, during 
which his surprise seemed to increase. “ I never dreamed that 
our Star would ever step into such a chair of state, although 
she is of good blood, I believe." 

“Of the best," Lord Carrol returned, decidedly. “She told 
me upon one occasion that her mother was a Miss Anna Chud- 
leigh, of Chudleigh Manor, Devonshire. I know something of 
them, and they were a fine family, although I have been told 
that they were very much displeased at the marriage of their 
only daughter with a clergyman of limited means. But — have 
I your sanction to prosecute my suit with Miss Gladstone, and 
will you arrange an interview for me.?" 

“Certainly; I shall do what you wish, and I must say that I 
am glad that things are turning out so well for Star, /have 
been very fond of her, for she is a bright and winsome little 
body about the house. She is talented, too, to say nothing of 
her beauty, and she will make you a good wife. I congratulate 
you both, and there is my hand on it, my lord," Mr. Richards 
concluded, heartily, and extending his hand to the young peer, 
which he took and cordially shook. 

But Mrs. i ichards, her heart filled with bitterest rage, felt as 
if she could have strangled her husband with a good relish for 
taking such an interest in Star's prospects, while the gorgeous 
air-castle which his own daughter had built was tumbling to 
the ground about his ears. 

Mr. Richards then rose. 

“I suppose you are anxious to see Star at once.?" he said. 

‘‘Yes, if you please. I desire to make my peace with her a? 


EXPLANA TlOErs. 


1 86 

soon as possible, for I knCw that she is deeply wounded, and I 
cannot rest until she knows the truth/' 

‘*Very well; I will go to her, and send her to the library. 
You will be free from intrusion there," Mr. Richards said, and 
immediately left the room in search of Star. 

He came back very soon, however, saying that she had not 
returned to her room, and no one had seen her that day save 
Mrs. Blunt, who toldi him that she had been very ill, and not 
able to attend school. 

Lord Carrol’s face fell at this information, and he realized 
more forcibly than ever what Star must have suffered from this 
unfortunate misunderstanding. 

‘‘Perhaps it will be best for me to wait until to-morrow 
morning," he said, after a moment of thought. “She appeared 
so greatly excited when I met her this evening, and has been so 
ill all day, it may be well for her to get rest before exciting her 
any further. Yes, I will wait," he concluded, with a sigh, for 
he was deeply disappointed and anxious. 

“Is Mr. Rosevelt a member of your family also.?" he asked, 
after a moment, and suddenly remembering that Star had told 
him they were inmates of the same house. 

“Yes; well, not exactly a member of my family," Mr. Rich- 
ards returned, flushing over this, another awkward question. 
“He is my wife s uncle, and one of us; but his health is so 
poor, and noise affects him so unpleasantly, that he prefers to 
have a room at the lodge rather than here where there is so 
much gayety and confusion." 

Mrs. Richards, still an eavesdropper, heaved another com- 
fortable sigh over this rough place made smooth. 

“You must have met Mr. Rosevelt also," he added, as it 
came to him that Star and his wife’s uncle had shared that 
dreadful experience at sea. 

“Yes; and I think him a fine old gentleman. I must see 
him also to-morrow," his lordship returned; and then he went 


EXPLANATIONS, 


187 

on to explain more fully how he had made the acquaintance of 
these two unfortunates, and described their sufferings and hard- 
ships so graphically that his listener, who did not know one- 
half, was deeply moved. 

“ Miss Gladstone was considered quite a heroine on board 
our steamer after her rescue,” the young man said, ‘‘when the 
passengers learned with how much fortitude she had conducted 
herself during the disaster and the dreadful events following. 
The captain told me, with tears running down his cheeks, how 
she had denied herself both food and drink in order that the 
life of Mr. Rosevelt, who, she declared, had less vitality than 
herself on account of his age, might be sustained. She did not 
even take the rest which she needed, but watched and worked 
over him unceasingly — in fact, she saved his 

“She is a noble girl — she is a splendid girl!” Mr. Richards 
returned, tears in his own eyes, and his heart full of remorse 
over the life Star had led since she came into his house. “She 
will make you the best little wife in the world. God bless 
you both 1” 

Lord Carrol saw that he was sincere, and began to suspect 
where all the trouble lay regarding Star. He was inclined to 
think, and rightly, that jealousy or ill-will on the part of the 
petted Josephine and her proud mother was the cause of her 
unpleasant position in the family ; but he inwardly resolved 
that it should be entirely different in the future, or she should 
not remain there. 

But he had been absent a long time from the gay company 
in the drawing-room, and, feeling assured that he could not see 
his darling that night, he returned to it, trying to wait with 
patience for what the morrow would bring him. 


i88 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 

As soon as Mr. Richards and his distinguished guest left the 
music-room, a white hand parted the curtains from the window, 
and a blanched, distorted face appeared in the aperture. 

It belonged to Mrs. Richards, who had, as before mentioned, 
been a listener to all that had transpired. Seeing that no one 
was in sight, she stepped softly inside, for the window was a 
long one, reaching to the floor, and sank back into a chair, the 
picture of a woman whom a fierce passion had exhausted. 

She had chanced to be out upon the veranda when Lord 
Carrol had entered the music-room and requested a “few 
moments" conversation '' with her husband, and feeling, with a 
thrill of delight, that the most important moment of Josephine’s 
life had come, she drew near to listen, as she supposed, to his 
lordship’s proposal for her hand. 

Her emotions can better be imagined than described when 
instead she heard the story which the young man told her 
husband, and learned that Star, the despised and neglected 
waif, had secured the prize which she had so coveted for her 
brilliant daughter. 

A perfect tornado of wrath, jealousy, and hate raged within 
her heart as she heard his praises of her, and his manly con- 
fession of love for her, with the intention of making her his 
wife. 

Star, the beggar maid, as she had always regarded her, the 
burden reproach of her life, the wife of a peer of England ! 

It could not be ; she would not have it so, when she had 
plotted and schemed to win this proud, handsome young aris- 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


189 

tocrat for her daughter ; when she had spent hundreds to snare 
him ; and when, she knew but too well, Josephine had learned 
to love him with all the fire of her proud, passionate nature. 

If it had been a girl in a position equal to that which 
Josephine occupied whom he had chosen, the disappointment 
would not have been less severe, but the mortification would 
not have been so galling. 

This was what had made Star's face so radiant, then, during 
the past week, making her seem to bloom into new beauty, and 
glorifying her with exceeding happiness. She had noticed, but 
could not understand it. 

This was the meaning of the unusual attention which she 
had bestowed upon her toilet last Saturday — for Josephine had 
told her of that little scene upon the veranda— and also of her 
protracted absence that day. 

For half an hour she sat there, white as alabaster with pas- 
sion, her eyes glowing with hate for the innocent cause of all 
her disappointment. 

‘‘Not in her room, eh?" she muttered at length, vindictivdy. 
“Fll find the little vixen, and if it is possible to widen this 
breach, it won't be my fault if it is not done." 

With a cruel expression on her still white face, she arose and 
swept noiselessly from the room by the same way that she had 
entered, and passed down the steps of the veranda out into the 
grounds. 

With a quick, swinging pace she walked down the avenue, 
casting keen glances among the trees and shrubbery as she 
went. 

But Star was nowhere to be seen. 

Mrs. Richards, however, was determined to have an inter- 
view with her before either her husband or Lord Carrol could 
do so. She did not think she had returned to the house, and 
had an idea that she might be at the lodge with Mr. Rosevelt, 
so she persevered in her search. 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


190 

She kept cn her way until she came out by the lodge, where 
she saw John Mellen, who was both gardener and porter, sitting 
upon the porch. 

He looked greatly surprised as the light from the lantern at 
the gate fell upon her face. 

Is anything the matter, marm.?'' he asked, touching his hat 
respectfully, but wondering to see her there at that hour, with 
no wrap, while he noticed that she was very pale. 

‘‘No, John ; but have you seen anything of Miss Gladstone?'' 
she asked. 

‘ Yes, marm; she came running down here about half an 
hour ago, looking like a wraith, and bounded up stairs like a 
fawn, to the old gentleman's room," he answered. 

“Is she there now?'’ Mrs. Richards demanded, quickly, her 
lips settling down into a hard, straight line. 

“ Yes’m — leastways, I've not seen her come down yet." 

The woman bent her head in thought a moment, then briefly 
remarked : 

'‘I think I'll go up." 

Gathering her rustling skirts in her hand, she passed inside 
the lodge, mounted the stairs with a noiseless tread, and paused 
before Mr. Rosevelt s door. 

Bending close to the keyhole, she heard sounds of sobbing, 
mingled with low, soothing words spoken by her uncle. 

She softly opened the door, and standing upon the threshold, 
her face grew dark and wrathful at the picture which she saw 
within the room. 

Mr. Rosevelt sat in his arm-chair by the table which stood 
between the two windows of his room, while Star knelt upon 
the floor at his side, her golden head bowed upon the arm of 
his chair, sobbing as if her heart was breaking. 

The old gentleman had laid one hand upon her bright head, 
and was soothing it gently as he tried to quiet her with low, 
fond words. 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


191 


“Dear child,” he said, tenderly, “don’t grieve so; you have 
been very brave so far ; bear it a little longer, and all will be 
well. I know you have tried to hide it from me and every one 
else, but IVe seen and known what you have had to contend 
with ever since I came here. You’ve had no love, no sym- 
pathy, and your poor, starved heart was well-nigh broken under 
it. But cheer up, my dear; you have been a blessing to me. 
I have been very lonely and forlorn many times, but I should 
have had a sorrowful time of it, indeed, if my bright lUtle Star 
had not shed her genial rays upon my pathway. 

“/wdeed !” interrupted a voice from behind them, in its most 
sarcastic tones, causing Star to spring to her feet with a low cry 
of surprise, as she turned her flushed, tear-stained face toward 
the intruder, while Mr. Rosevelt looked up at his niece with a 
grave, displeased countenance. 

"^Indeed!'' Mrs. Richards repeated, her anger waxing hotter 
and fiercer as she imagined that Star had been pouring the story 
of her love and trial into her uncle’s ears. “You have both 
been sadly abused and heart-starved, haven’t you .? For a couple 
of dependents you fare very badly, don’t you.? And this is the 
gratitude and appreciation that you show. Stella Gladstone, go 
back to your room and remain there until I come to you ; I 
wish to have a private conversation with you. As for you. Uncle 
Jacob, I am surprised that you should take sides with a senti- 
mental schoolgirl against those who are providing most bounti- 
fully for her.” 

Mr. Rosevelt reached out his hand and took one of Star’s. 

“Remain where you are,” he said, with a quiet authority 
which amazed while it enraged his niece. 

Then turning to her, he continued, in the same quiet tone, 
but with a deliberation which made every w^ord tell : 

“Ellen Richards, you are a heartless, arrogant woman. You 
need not speak yet, for I am going to relieve my mind, once 
for all. I am your father’s only brother, and when you were a 


192 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


child I helped him provide the very bread that appeased your 
hunger. When, later on, I became a rich man, and you were 
married and settled, you fawned upon and flattered me, pro- 
testing that there was nothing in the world that you would not 
do for ‘dear Uncle Jacob.' Every time I returned from abroad, 
bringing you rich and elegant gifts, you urged me to quit my 
roving and come to live with you — ^your ‘home and heart would 
always be open ' to me, you said. It was the same with your 
brother Henry ; words cost nothing, and his protestations were 
as fluent as your own. But when misfortune overtook me, and 
I returned to remain and to take him at his word, everything 
was changed. He received me coldly, giving me the poorest 
accommodations his house afforded, when before the best were 
none too good for me. Finally, he and his family, by their 
coldness, neglect, and disagreeable hints, drove me to despera- 
tion, and I left them. I came hither, hoping that your woman’s 
heart w'ould prompt you to receive a sick and failing old man 
with the kindness and sympathy which he so much needed 
and craved. But I met with even a worse reception ; the very 
atmosphere of your house when I entered it told me at once 
that I was an unwelcome guest. You have ignored me when 
you could, and when you could not, you have taken pains to 
make me feel like an intruder and a dependent, although your 
husband evidently would be glad to be kind to me, if he could 
do so and keep the peace. This child alone,” the old man 
continued, looking tenderly up into Star’s sad face, “has given 
me love and sympathy. Her kindness and little attentions 
have been like a bright spot in the darkness and loneliness of 
my life since coming to you ; while your treatment of her has 
been culpable ” 

“Has she dared to complain of me to you.^” cried Mrs. 
Richards, crimson with anger; for every word that he had 
uttered had been a reproach to her, and while she did not 
quite dare to vent her wrath upon him, she was glad of this 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


m 

sllusion to Star, for upon her defenseless head she felt free to 
relieve herself. 

“No; she has never complained — she has even tried to con- 
ceal your treatment of her — but I have eyes and can see for 
myself, and it has been patent to me how her young heart has 
been staived, how every bright and enjoyable thing has been 
crushed out of her life. 1 know how she has had to do battle 
for even her education, and that you would have made a drudge 
and a slave of her, had you dared and your husband allowed 
you to do it. It is disgraceful, Ellen, for you to treat your 
cousin's child in such a manner, when you owe so much to 
her mother " 

“ How do you know? has been telling you all this? 

I am out of all patience!" Mrs. Richards interrupted, passion- 
ately. “ Everybody is continually throwing at me the fact that 
Anna Chudleigh once saved my life. Hundreds of people have 
saved the lives of others and considered it their duty to have 
done so. If I was drowning and Anna saw me, it was natural 
for her — it belonged to her to save me if she could, as I should 
have done, no doubt, had the circumstances been reversed." 

“True; but this view of the case does not lessen your ob- 
ligation, iicr license you to abuse the trust that has been com- 
mitted to you," Mr. Rosevelt answered, sternly. “ You bound 
yourself to this child's dying father to ‘do the best you could 
for her,' to give her a home, and see that her education was 
properly atis^nded to, and you owed it to him and to her to 
keep your promise." 

“I owed her nothing," cried the enraged woman, losing all 
control of herself; “and you. Uncle Jacob, are overstepping all 
bounds by interfering with what is none of your business." 

“The girl saved my life almost at the sacrifice of her own, 
and I shall make it my business to do what I can for her while I 
live," Mr. Rosevdt answered, with dignity. 

“ Well, you will find, I reckon, that you have not helped her 


194 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


cause very much by taking up weapons against me for her/ 
snapped his niece, vindictively, and with a glance of dislike at 
Star. ‘‘Saved your life V she continued, sarcastically. “Well, 
perhaps, she did ; but, in my opinion, that is ail sentimental 
gush, for she is an artful jade, and has doubtless palavered and 
cooed over you until she has pulled the wool over your eyes in 
fine shape.'' 

“What could have been her object, Ellen asked the old 
gentleman, dryly. “Certainly not the expectation of getting 
any portion of my fortune, since appearances must have indi- 
cated to her as well as to you that I had nothing to give her. 
If she had known me, and done all this when I was considered 
rich, there might possibly be some reason in your accusations." 

This shaft told keenly, for his niece colored guiltily to the 
roots of her hair. 

“Your irony is ill-timed, it appears to me. Uncle Jacob," she 
said, sullenly, “especially as you are indebted to me for the 
bare necessaries of life, not to speak of its comforts." 

“Indebted to you, am I, Ellen.? I do not believe in re- 
criminations, but allow me to ask, do you know the cost of 
those diamonds which you have on, and have you forgotten 
where you got them .?" 

Mrs. Richards' brilliant color forsook her in an instant, and 
she became as white as the mass of snowy lace which rose and 
fell with the angry pulsation of her heart. 

Her passionate temper prompted her to tear those flashing 
stones from her person and cast them in the face of her accuser; 
but her pride and avarice were the strongest attributes of her 
nature, and knowing that she would not be likely to have them 
replaced, she refrained from so rash an act. 

“I do nof begrudge you your jewels, Ellen," Mr. Rosevelt 
continued, more gently, perceiving how keenly she felt his re- 
proof, “but when you twit me of being indebted to you for the 
simple necessaries of life, it is rather more than I can tamely 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


195 


submit to. I was fond of making presents in the days that 
are gone, and I felt repaid for my diamonds by the joy that 
lighted up your face when I gave them to you ; but I confess 
it is a little hard to be considered a burden by you now, while 
I am deeply grieved to have Stars young life made so un- 
happy. 

‘‘ 1 tell you you do not know the girl ; she is as artful as she 
can be, and I can prove it to you,'' Mrs. Richards exclaimed, 
glad to have the subject changed, for she was considerably con- 
science smitten over the diamonds. 

“ I do not think you can prove anything of the kind, Ellen," 
Mr. Rosevelt returned, quietly. 

Listen, then," she retorted, eagerly, ‘‘and I will tell you 
how to-night I have discovered her to be guilty of the most 
shameless conduct." 

Star started and flushed at the accusation. She had not a 
suspicion that her secret had been discovered. 

“It seems," continued Mrs. Richards, “that while going 
back and forth, to and from school this fall, she has been flirt- 
ing in the most desperate manner with a young man — a perfect 
stranger to her, and one so far above her socially that it was 
rankest presumption in her to do as she has done. She has 
even entrapped him into — or rather, I should say, she has mis- 
construed his conversation with her to mean a declaration of 
love for her, and now that he has found her out and turns with 
disgust from her artful designing, she has shamelessly taxed 
him with unfaithfulness and treachery." 

Star turned and regarded her accuser in perfect amazement. 
She could scarcely credit her sense of hearing. 

How did Mrs. Richards know anything about her meetings 
with Lord Carrol, alias Archibald Sherbrooke, or of her interest 
in him.J^ And who had represented it in this disgraceful light 

“This young man," the cunning woman went on, “is no 
Other than Lord Carrol, who, for the month that we were at 


196 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


Long Branch, paid the most devoted attention to Josephine, 
and accepted our invitation here with the intention, as we sup- 
posed, of formally declaring himself to her and securing her 
father’s consent to their marriage/’ 

A convulsive tremor ran through every fiber of the young 
girl’s being as she stood there and listened to this artful tale, 
and Mr. Rosevelt, who still held her hand, was sensible of it, 
and wondered what it could all mean. 

He had not a suspicion that Lord Carrol and the handsome 
young artist whom he so admired were one and the .same, but 
he knew that something must be very wrong to move Star so 
and make her look so deathly white. 

‘‘You look astonished,” Mrs Richards said, “and well you 
may, and your surprise will increase when I have told }ou all.” 

“I am sure,” he answered, glancing from one to the other, 
“that there must be s:me mistake.” 

“There is no mistake,” replied his niece, coldly, and fixing 
a merciless glance upon Star, “ for Lord Carrol has just had an 
interview with my husband, during which he told him the w'hole 
story. . He says his first meeting with Stella was caused by an 
accident, and that she appeared so bright and intelligent that 
w'henever he met her afterward he spoke with her and treated 
her kindly. He did not even have the least idea where she 
lived until to-night, after dinner. He w^ent cut for a quiet 
smoke, w'hen she presented herself before him, accused him of 
coming^here as Josephine’s lover, and denounced him as a 
traitor in the strongest terms and most unmaidenly manner, 
and telling him, great’y to his surprise, that she was an inmate 
of the house where he w-as a visitor. Of course, after such a 
denouement, he could do no other w^ay than to seek Mr. Rich- 
ards and explain everything, lest this rash girl should, out of a 
spirit of revenge and disappointment, destroy all his prospects 
with Josephii'e.” 

It was a cunningly distorted story, and Star, as she listened 


MALICIOUS FALSEHOODS. 


197 

to it, bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, 
while a low cry of despair broke from her lips. 

She had not dreamed that the man whom she had learned to 
love, who, with his open, handsome face, his frank, manly ways, 
had w^on her deepest lespect, her strongest affections, could be 
guilty of so cow'ardly an act as to betray her thus. 

And yet he must nave done so, else how^ could Mrs. Richards 
have known anything about the matter? 

Yes, without doubt, he had feared that she w'ould openly 
denounce him before the family w’here he had so unexpectedly 
found her, and so had given this version of the great wrong that 
he had done her in order to shield himself 

His owm prospects of winning the rich heiress must not be 
interfered with, so he adopted this coup d'eiat of going to Mrs. 
Richards and, with apparent frankness, confessing that his 
trifling attention to a silly girl had resulted in leading her to 
believe she had w'on a wealthy and titled husband. 

This was just what Mrs. Richards had wished to make Star 
believe, and she succeeded only too well, for the young girl 
was well-nigh crushed to the earth with a sense of shame, and 
humiliation, and wounded love. 

And yet, even wdiile she felt that Archibald Sheibrooke — she 
could not think of him in any other character — had been guilty 
of a most cowardly and treacherous act, had steeped his soul 
in sin by winning her heart to break it, and thus ruining her 
whole life, she Imed him still. 


STARTS DETERMINATION, 


198 


CHAPTER XX. 
star’s determination. 

“Star, my dear child, what does this mean?” Mr. Rosevelt 
ejaculated, in a tone of wonder, as his niece concluded. 

“It is unnecessary to ask her whether I have spoken the 
truth or not ; her very looks and manner betray that she is 
guilty of what I have told you,” Mrs. Richards said, scornfully. 
“I did not suppose, however, with her innocent face and ap- 
parently quiet, modest manner, that she could be quite so 
shameless. But it is always so ; suc-h cat-like natures always 
work in the dark.” 

Star’s proud little head came up with a haughty air at this 
taunting speech, while her blue eyes grew dark and ominous. 

“You are accusing me ignorantly and most unjustly,” she 
said, in a hard tone, but with pained and quivering lips. 

“How so? Do you presume to deny that you met Lord 
Carrol in the grounds to-night?” demanded Mrs. Richards, 
severely. 

“No.” 

“ You did meet him?” 

“Yes.’; 

“And denounced him as a traitor?” 

“Yes. I believe him to be a traitor to truth and honor, 
and — a coward!” 

They were hard, cruel words to be said of Archibald Sher- 
brooke, whom she had loved so dearly and believed to be so 
noble and true, and her heart thrilled with keenest pain as she 
uttered them, but she believed he had basely deceived her. 

“Explain yourself,” commanded Mrs. Richards, bridling. 


STARTS DETERMINATION. 


199 


‘'I shall explain nothing/' Star answered, coldly, yet firmly. 
‘‘What I said to Lord Carrol to-night was intended for him 
alcne. If he has chosen to betray me, the responsibility rests 
upon himself, and you can go to him for explanations if you 
choose." 

“Where did you meet him first — how did you make his 
acquaintance asked Mrs. Richards, longing to get Star s ver- 
sion of the story. 

“I decline to answer any questions upon the subject," she 
returned, quietly. 

“I command you to tell me." 

“And I still decline," Star said, with an air that surprised 
both of her listeners. 

She was as colorless now as a block of marble, but so beau- 
tiful in her proud sorrow, her agonized scorn, that they could 
but regard her with wonder. 

“You have no right to refuse what I ask of you. I am your 
guardian, and I demand a truthful confession of this whole 
scandalous affair," Mrs. Richards reiterated, sharply. 

“You have already had it, you say, from Lord Carrol’s own 
lips; it will therefore be unnecessary for me to repeat or en- 
large upon it," the young girl returned, with calm scorn, while 
her delicate nostrils dilated, and her sweet lips curled with 
supreme contempt. 

“ I cannot understand — there must be some mistake in all 
this," ejaculated Mr. Rosevelt, his face a perfect blank. “I 
thought, Saturday, Star, that you " 

A slight motion from her checked him in what he was going 
to say. 

“No, there is no mistake; and this much I will explain to 
you. I did meet Lord Carrol to-night, as Mrs. Richards has 
told you," she said. “ I did believe myself his betrothed wife, 
and him to be a man of honor, until he came here last night 
as Miss Richards' acknowledged suitor, and when I saw him 


2oO 


STARTS DETERMINATION. 


this evening I did denounce him as a traitor. It seems that he 
has volunteered explanations to suit himself to Mr. and Mrs. 
Richards, and I decline to go further into particulars with 
them. I have no desire to blight Miss Josephine s prospects 
in life, and I wish her all joy with her high-born and honorable 
lover.'' 

Pen cannot portray the scorn which pervaded those last 
words, ringing out so clearly, so scathingly that Mrs. Richards’ 
cheeks burned and her ears tingled ; for this was the man — if 
he really had been the traitor which she wished to make him 
appear — whom she was using all her arts to secure for Jose- 
phine’s husband 

“I am amazed — I cannot understand!" Mr. Rosevelt re- 
pealed, with a troubled face. 

He believed Star to be as pure-minded and as innocent of 
WTong as a little child. 

He had been convinced from what had transpired on the 
previous Saturday that she loved Archibald Sherbrooke, and 
not knowing that he w’as also Lord Carrol, he, of course, was 
completely puzzled over the mystery. 

*‘1 do not see how you dare look any respectable person in 
the face, and confess what you just have, without seeking to 
clear yourself," retorted Mrs. Richards, sternly. You are com- 
promising your character in the most wretched manner. What 
can I believe of you — what can any one believe of you, if you 
own to having been upon such intimate terms with a man of 
such standing as Lord Carrol, while he is here as the acknowl- 
edged suitor 6f my daughter?" 

“The very worst that you can believe, madam," Star re- 
turned, calmlv, and meeting the woman’s eye fearlessly, but 
with a look which made her quail in spite of herself, “can 
only serve to compromise the man, whose favor and title you 
appear so anxious to secure, more than it possibly can me. 
Notwithstanding whatever claim I may have supposed myself to 


STARTS DETERmNATION. 


201 


have heretofore possessed upon him, I now most cheer/ully resign 
it in favor of Miss Richards/' 

Were ever words so cutting? Was there ever so barbed a 
sentence so calmly uttered before? 

Mrs. Richards ground her teeth with rage over the fact that 
the man whom poor, despised Star Gladstone thus spurned, 
believing him to be the very soul of dishonor, she knew Jose- 
phine was using all her arts to win, while of course she could 
not undeceive her because it would spoil her plot. 

“ You are an insolent, overbearing girl," she said, in a low, 
hissing tone, “and I wonder how I have tolerated you in my 
hoyse as long as I have. I wonder how you dare face me, 
and use such insulting language to me after your shameless 
conduct." 

“I am neither insolent nor overbearing, Mrs. Richards. 
Ever since I came into your house I have striven to do as 
nearly right as I knew how, and to make as little trouble as 
possible. It is you who have been overbearing, who have 
wounded me by insulting the memory of my parents, and have 
tried to crush and trample upon me. Jn no way have I re- 
belled against your authority, except in the determination not 
to become a common servant and to pursue my education. 
This I did in justice to myself, and because I had promised my 
father I would do it. If you have ‘tolerated me in your hDuse,' 
believe me, there has been as much toleration exercised upon 
my part, for in no sense of the word has it been a home to me; 
instead, it has been merely a place of shelter, a spot to exist in 
until I could complete my education. I can bear it no longer. 
I shall consider your house no longer my home," Star con- 
cluded, with a decision which rather startled Mrs. Richards. 

But she retorted, derisively : 

“Your independent spirit ill becomes you. Where could 
you go? Who would take you, a penniless beggar, and give 
you the advantages w’hich you have been enjoying during the 


202 


S7'AR^S DETERMINATION. 


past year? But it is folly for me to give heed to your idle 
words. I command you to return directly to your room, and 
hold no intercourse with any one, and to-morrow I will decide 
what course to pursue with reference to your future/' 

She had been planning to pack her off to Brooklyn with one 
of the servants until Lord Carrol’s visit should be ended, and 
thus avoid all possibility of an interview and its attendant ex- 
planations. 

But Star did not move. She remained standing quietly by 
Mr. Rosevelts chair, as if she had not heard her command. 

Did you hear what I said?" she demanded, sharply. 

‘‘Yes, madam." 

“Well, do you intend to obey me?" 

“No, madam." 

“What!" 

“I refuse to recognize your authority over me from this 
moment. I refuse to obey any longer one who, from the first, 
has been governed only by feelings of personal spite in all her 
dealings with Star returned, firmly. 

Mrs. Richards could scarcely credit her ears. 

She had not imagined that the usually quiet girl possessed a 
tithe of this spirit. 

“Well, Uncle Jacob, what do you think of your little pattern 
of excellence now?" df^manded the astonished woman, turning 
with an injured air to her uncle, who was nearly as much 
amazed himself. 

“I think the child has been severely tried," he returned, 
quietly, whereupon Mrs. Richards flew into another rage. 

“I must say, U/>rle Jacob, that I consider it very bad taste 
In you to take sides with her against me ; and let me warn you, 
that you have both got yourselves into trouble by the doings of 
this night." 

The arrogant dame did not wait for any reply, but turned 


STARTS DE TER MINA TIOIV. 


203 

abruptly and left the room, retiring, however, with a sense of 
defeat which it was not pleasant to contemplate. 

The moment that the door closed after her, Star dropped 
again upon the floor by Mr. Rosevelt’s side, heart-broken. He 
saw that she was utterly unnerved by what had just transpired, 
and for awhile he left her to herself. At length, when she be- 
came more calm, he said, sorrowfully, yet gently: 

‘‘ My child, tell me what Ellen means. What cause has she 
for coming here to accuse you of such dreadful things.? Who is 
this Lord Carrol, and what has he been to you 

Star lifted her white, pained face to him. 

“You do not believe what she has told you — you do not 
believe I would be guilty of anything so shameless as she would 
try to make me appear?'" she questioned, brokenly. 

“No, no; I think there is some terrible misunderstanding. 
I do not believe you would do anything which you knew to be 
wrong ; and yet your own words have mystified me. I cannot 
comprehend them." 

“I will tell you all about it. I would not explain anything 
to her — I could not after she had told me what he said," Star 
answered, but her face flushed with shame at the thought of 
confessing a tale of love and devotion on her part, of decep- 
tion and treachery on the part of the man whom she had so 
trusted. 

It seemed to her like a lack of dignity and of strength of 
character that she should have been so easily duped. 

Then she told him all the story of her love for Archibald 
Sherbrooke, beginning with that day when they had exchanged 
souvenirs on the steamer, and which, she felt, had been the 
commencement of their love. She told him how he had pre- 
vented her from leaping on the cars when they were in motion, 
and how every day after that he had contrived to meet her, 
luring her heart from her day by day, until the previous Satur- 


204 


STARTS DETERMINATION, 


day he had declared his love for her, and won her promise to 
be his wile as soon as she should have graduated. 

“Oh, Uncle Jacob,’' Star concluded, hiding her face on the 
arm of his chair again, “I believed him so true, so honorable, 
so worJiy of my love, and now to find him so unprincipled and 
treacherous, it crushes me!” 

Mr. Rosevelt looked very grave, almost stern. 

“This is just as I supposed — as I was led to believe from 
your appearance last Saturday. I knew well enough, when we 
returned home from Coney Island, that you had promised to 
be Sherbrooke’s wife. But I don’t understand his treachery, 
as you call it, nor what connection all this has with the young 
lord who has come to ask for Josephine’s hand,” he said, 
coldly. 

Star looked up again, at the un%miliar lone. 

“ Oh !” she said, wearily ; “ I am so miserable that I have not 
made it plain to you — I nave not told you ; but Lord Carrol is 
only another name for the man who called himself Archibald 
Sherbrooke. Under the latter he cheated me into loving him, 
and he has ruined my life ; under the former, which is his rea/ 
name, I suppose, he has been trying to win the heiress.” 

]\Ir. Rosevelt was speechless from amazement at this revela- 
tion, and for a full minute could only look down into those 
piteous, uplifted eyes in mute dismay. 

“Impossible!” he cried, at length. “I cannot believe it; I 
cannot think that young Sherbrooke would be guilty of any- 
thing so dastardly. There must be some mistake.” 

“There is no mistake,” Star returned, with despair in her 
tones. “I was sitting at the wndow of my room when he 
arrived, and, of course, I recognized him at once. His form, 
his bearing, his handsome face, the tones of his voice — every- 
thing was identical with the Archie Sherbrooke from whom we 
parted last Saturday evening. At first I was crushed by the 
blow ; then 1 thought perhaps Lord Carrol had disappointed 


STARTS DETERM/NATIOiW 


205 


them, and Archie had come to me as he had promised to do 
Monday or Tuesday; but this hope fled when I heard them 
address him as Lord Carrol, and he replied at once to the 
name. It has broken my heart, Uncle Jaccb,'^ Star wailed, 
pouring out all her sorrow to him. “I do not know how I 
ever lived last night through ; I do not believe I was conscious 
half the time; while to-day I have been too weak, and ill, and 
wretched to care what became of me.'' 

‘‘Poor child ! poor child !’' he murmured, softly. 

“To-night," she went on, “ I felt as if I must get out into 
the air. 1 n ust see a fiiendly face and hear a kindly voice, so 
I came to you, although I did not mean to tell you anything 
of my trouble. I meant to bear it alone, and never let any 
one know how cruelly I had been deceived, or how readily I 
had given my foolish heart away." 

The old gentleman laid h’s hand on her shining head, 
smoothing her hair with a tender touch. He was nearly weep- 
ing himself to see this beautiful young girl so crushed. 

“On my w^y down here," she pursued, “I felt faint; my 
strength all left me, and I stopped and leaned against a tree to 
recover myself, and while I stood there he stole up behind me, 
laid his hand on my shoulder, and asked me i;i surprise how I 
came to be there. I gave him the street and number where 
we lived last Saturday, but I suppose when Mr. Richards and 
Josephine went to meet him at the station and brought him 
here, he did not once think it was the same place, for I have 
never told him their names. He believed me to be a poor girl, 
and never would have thought of finding me in a place like 
this; that was why he was so overcome with surprise when he 
saw me to-night. But when I charged him with personating 
two characters — having two names — he could not deny it ; he 
owned that he w'as Lord Carrol, but tried to make me let him 
explain. I would no: ; there could be nothing to explain. He 
had deceived me, and it was enough ; I could never trust him 


2o6 


STARTS DETEKMIIVATION, 


after that. I called him a traitor and a coward, and then I ran 
away and came to you, who are the only friend I have in this 
wide, weary world." 

You did right, dear, to come to me; but were you not a 
trifle hasty and rash.? I think you should have listened to 
young Sherbrooke’s — or whoever he may be — defense," Mr. 
Rosevelt said, gently. 

“What possible defense could he have had to offer.?" Star 
cried, in a voice of scorn. “ He has pretended to be Archibald 
Sherbrooke, a simple artist, to me, while everybody else knows 
him as Lord Carrol, of Carrolton." 

“But he may have been traveling incognito under the former 
name, " suggested Mr. Rosevelt. 

“Then why did he not keep it to the end? Why did he go 
to a fashionable watering-place and flourish as a titled English- 
man, and devote himself to Josephine? Why did he resume 
the former name upon meeting me again, and lead me to love 
him, believing him to be a poor artist? No; there can be 
nothing said in defense of such double-dealing as this. He 
has cheated and fooled me. I have found him out, and com- 
pelled him to own it. It is enough to make me scorn him ; 
but it has been a bitter lesson, and has taught me never to trust 
a man again," Star concluded, with vehement bitterness. 

“Never, Star? Surely that acrimonious resolve does not in- 
clude me," said Mr. Rosevelt, with gentle reproach. 

“No; I know that you are kind and true, and you are the 
only one in the world who cares for me,” the suffering girl said, 
in husky tones. ^ 

“Indeed, my child, you have become very dear to me, and 
my life would be very forlorn without you." 

Star bent down and touched his hand jvith her lips. In her 
wretchedness it comforted her greatly to know that she had con- 
tributed to his happiness. 

‘ ‘ But I cannot get over what you have told me. I never 


STAR'S DETERMINATION. 


207 


was so deceived in my life before ; and if this young sprig of 
English nobility is the villain you represent him, he is not fit 
to live,” Mr. Rosevelt said, sternly, after a few moments of 
thoughtful silence. 

Star shivered with pain. Much as she believed she scorned 
him, she could not endure that another should speak dis- 
paragingly of him. 

'‘Never mind him^ Uncle Jacob,” she said. “I have put 
him out of my life forever; and now I want to talk to you 
about something else. You say that I have made your life 
happier since you came here, and that you would be very 
lonely without me. I am going to tell you a little secret, and 
then I want you to promise to go away from here with me. 
I am not going to remain here another day,” she concluded, 
decidedly. 

“Is that your secret, Star?” 

“Part of it,” she answered, with a sad smile. “I have a 
little money, as you know — a hundred pounds — which, at Mr. 
Richards' suggestion, I put at interest last year. Now, I want 
to take this money and make a cozy little home for you and 
me somewhere, until I get through school — there will be 
enough to last till then, I think — and after that I shall be able 
to take care of us both in fine style, by teaching and giving 
music lessons.” 

He smiled skeptically as she planned so hopefully what her 
poor hundred pounds would do, while a tear started to his eye 
at her thought for him. 

She saw that he did not think she could do all that she told 
him, and flushed. 

“You do not believe that I shall be able to take care of us 
both,” she said, eagerly, “but I know that I can, for I have 
not yet told you all. Listen.” 

She bent nearer to him, and putting her lips close to his ear, 


208 


S7'AI^^S DETERMINATION, 


told him something which even you and I must not know just 
yet, my patient reader. 

He was nearly as much surprised as he had been to learn of 
Archibald Sheibrookes treachery. 

“My dear,” he said, while his face lighted with pride and 
joy, “you shall have your way, and 1 will do just as you wish, 
and I ” 

He checked himself suddenly, dropped his head in thought 
for a moment, then resumed : 

‘^1 am not happy here any more than yourself, and have 
been thinking for some time that I must go away ; but I could 
not bear the thought of parting from you. Now we will go 
together, as you wish, unless ” 

“Unless wfiat. Uncle Jacob.?^” Star asked, anxiously. 

“Unless you will let me see this young scamp of a lord, and 
take him to task for his faithlessness to you.” 

“Never!” Star replied, proudly. “What good would it 
do to ” 

“There may be some mistake; he might be able to explain 
everything satisfactorily,” interrupted Mr. Rosevell. 

Star’s beautiful lips curled. 

“What would his explanations amount to.? He is here as 
as a suitor for Josephine’s hand — they all confess it; and did 
you ever listen to a more monstrous story than Mrs. Richards 
repeated here to-night? To think that he could say anything 
so basely false of me is almost enough to drive me wild,” Star 
cried, excitedly. “No, Uncle Jacob; although he has been 
guilty of the most cruel treachery, I will not contend w’lth him. 
If he is such a craven that he would try to win a young girl’s 
heart for the amusement ef breaking it, and then seek to blight 
her fair fame by charging her with what he has imputed to me 
to-night, he is too far beneath me to be worthy of anything 
save my supreme contempt, and I never wish to meet him 


1 


STARTS DETERMINATION. 209 

again. I only want to get away from them all^ and never see 
their faces more." 

Her voice broke with such a wail of despair in it that the old 
' man could not find it in his heart to refuse her anything. 

Very well; we will go away to-morrow," he said, sorrow- 
fully. 

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Jacob!" the unhappy girl said, 
eagerly; “ana will you go without letting them know.? They 
would never consent, and I do not wish them even to know 
where I go." 

“ Yes; we will go without saying anything to any one. We 
can leave a note telling them why we go, and it shall be the 
object of the little time that remains to me to care for you and 
try to make your young life a little brighter than it has been," 
he returned, thoughtfully. 

“ How early can you be ready.?" he asked, after a moment. 

“By daylight; the earlier the better," she returned, earnestly. 
“Every moment here is full of pain for me." 

“Very well; there is a six o'clock train — the workingmen's 
train — into New York; we will take it, and find a home for 
ourselves somewhere in the city. But how about your school, 
Star? They will seek for you there." 

“I wall go to Professor Roberts and tell him that circum- 
stances compel me to leave, and ask him for a recommendation 
to some other institute. There are others in the city wEere 
the) w’ould never dream of looking for me, and where 1 can 
graduate next year, as I have planned to do." 

“It shall be just as you wish, my dear; I feel that I am 
doing you no wTong in gratifying you. You shall be like a 
young daughter to me, and I — I promise I will be no burden 
to you, notwithstanding that I am old and feeble," Mr. Rosevelt 
answ'ered, with a sad smile. 

“A burden!" Star repeated, with quivering lips. “Oh, 
please do not imagine such a thing ! It is you who are to lake 


210 


STAR'S DETERMINATION. 


caie of me and shield me until I graduate, for without you to 
help me bear the responsibility, I should not dare to take such 
a step. 

Mr. Rosevelt smiled again. 

‘‘You try to make the obligation appear all your own ; but 
I share it, nevertheless ; and I think you and I will be far hap- 
pier away from the unpleasant influences which have surrounded 
us during the past 3^ear. I am quite anticipating the change, I 
assure you. Now you must go to rest. You look more like a 
ghost than a star just now; and my heart has been deeply 
pained to-night for the sulfering that you have had to endure ; 
but I believe it will yet be made up to you in some way,’' he 
concluded, with grave thoughtfulness. 

He sat regarding her earnestly for a few moments. Then he 
said, while his eyes were fixed questioningly on her face : 

“This is a different kind of a storm, child, from the one 
which you and I passed through at sea. Your faith was strong 
then; 3^ou were not afraid to die; how is it now^^ Do you 
believe your God rules this kind of a storm also.f^" 

There was a skeptical smile on the old man's lips, and a 
bitterness in his tone as he asked this, which filled the young 
girl's heart with remorse. 

She looked up at him with a startled glance, while her pained 
face almost instantly relaxed into an expression of trustfulness 
and peace. 

“Uncle Jacob,” she said, with a solemn sweetness which 
impressed him deeply, “you could not have said anything for 
which I should thank you more — you have recalled me to 
myself. I should not have forgotten for a moment that God 
rules everywhere and over everything. Yes, I believe He knows 
best, even though I cannot understand why I must suffer this 
bitter trial.” 

The old man sighed deeply, and his fac§ was very grave. 


STARTS IjETERM/UATIOA^ 


21 1 


“Good-night!"’ he said, abruptly^ and rising, led her to the 
door. 

When he reached it, he bent suddenly down and touched 
her forehead with his lips; and Star, with a low-spoken “good- 
night/" went away with a sorely aching heart, indeed, but 
greatly comforted by his sympathy, while a spirit of submis- 
sion had succeeded to the bitterness and rebellion of the pre* 
vious hour. 

Jacob Rosevelt locked the door after her, and went back to 
the table where he had been sitting when she came to him. 

Opening the drawer, he took out a package of papers and 
letters, which he carefully looked over. 

When he had read them all, he selected a portion, tore them 
into atoms, and throwing them into the grate where there was 
a slow fire, watched them until they had burned to ashes, with 
a white, stern face. Then he sat down again, and wrote far 
into the night. 

The next morning when Mrs. Blunt went up to see how Star 
was feeling, and if she had any appetite for her breakfast, she 
found her room empty. 

“Goodness gracious! the child has got up and gone to 
school, and without a mouthful to stay her stomach, or Tm 
much mistaken,"" she said, in a voice of dismay. 

Then, as her eye fell upon the open drawers of the bureau 
and the empty closet, a sudden fear oppressed her. 

A little note lying up3n the bed now attracted her attention, 
and she eagerly pounced upon it. 

It was directed to her, and with trembling fingers she opened 
it, and read : 

“Dear Mrs. Blunt: — Something has occurred which makes it im- 
possible for me to remain here any longer, and I am going away to take 
care of myself. You have always been very kind to me, and I thank you 
very much for it, and shall never forget it. Sometime I hope to see you 
again, and I trust you will always think kindly of 

“ Stella Gladstone.’* 


2 I 2 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS, 


The good woman sat down and wept bitter tears over this 
brief note, for she had learned to love the bright, kind-hearted 
girl who always had a cheery word for her. She knew the 
house would never seem the same again without her. 

The.i she went down to tell the news to her master. She 
'met John Mellen in the hall, who had come with the intelli- 
gence that Mr. Rosevelt left the lodge early that morning, 
taking all that belonged to him — “which »^as not much, yer 
honor/’ he volunteered, and he handed Mr Richards a note 
which the old gentleman had left for him. 


CHAPTER XXL 

FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 

Mr. Richards and his family were thrown into considerable 
confusion by ihe double surprise which this mornii?^ revealed 
to them. 

He was really a kind man at heart, and had been v^ry much 
troubled by the way that his whfe had conducted herseff toward 
her aged uncle, and also by her unfeeling usage of Star, 

Mrs. Richards, however, found it difficult to conceal h^r satis- 
faction at the turn events had taken. She kept her owm counsel 
regarding her knowledge of what had transpired during the in- 
teiview between her husband and the young lord; neither did 
she consider it necessary to mention the stormy scene which 
had occurred at the lodge the previous evening, in which she 
was so prominent an actor. 

“Josephine shall have everything her own way now/’ she 
thought, exultantly; “at all events, that girl shall never triumph 
over my daughter by becoming Lady Carrol/' 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS, 


2J3 


Mr. Richards declared that he should go immediately in 
search of the fugitives. He could not endure the thought that 
the delicate young girl and feeble old man should go out into 
the world to earn their own living, for this he supposed they 
would be obliged to do, since what little money he knew Star 
to be possessed of could not support them both a great while. 

But Mrs. Richards indignantly objected to this proceeding. 

“Let them alone,” she said, angrily; “ they will not thank 
you for your trouble, and doubtless would refuse to return if 
you should succeed in finding them. I am sure they have 
shown precious little gratitude for what we have already done 
for them. Uncle Jacob sa»s in his note that it has been very 
unpleasant for him here, and if such is the case, let him go 
where he will fare better if he can find such a place. As for 
that proud-spirited, independent girl, J never want to see her 
again ; I am glad to be rid of her.” 

Mr. Richards did not reply to this tirade, but he felt very 
sorrowful, for every day only seemed to reveal some new trait 
of selfishness and heartlessness in his wife,' which served to 
detract from his respect for her 

Nothing of all this, however, was mentioned before their 
guests, and when after breakfast Lord Carrol sought his host 
in the library to make further arrangements for an interview 
with Star, he was astonished and dismayed by the intelligence 
’«\hich he received regarding her secret departure with Mr. 
Rosevelt. 

“ Have you anv idea where they can have gone?” he asked, 
with a very pale, anxious face. 

“Not the slightest,” Mr. Richards answered, “and I am 
deeply concerned about the affair. You will believe me, I am 
sure, when 1 tell you that 1 admire Miss Gladstone exceed- 
ingly, although 1 am obliged to confess with shame that her 
sojourn with us has not been made as pleasant as it might 
have been.” 


214 


FR UITLESS EFFOR TS. 


Mr. Richards made this confession with a lowering brow and 
in a stern tone. 

I judged that she was not happy here from something that 
she dropped last night/’ Lord Carrol said, gravely. “And,” he 
added, with evident embarrassment, “it is a delicate topic to 
touch upon, but I believe plain dealing is best — she also stated 
that it is generally believed in your household that I am here 
as a suitor for Miss Richards’ hand. I trust, however, that there 
has been no such misunderstanding as this. I enjo3^ed a very 
pleasant month at Long Branch with both your wife and 
daughter. Perhaps I sought their society more than might 
have been deemed proper'^nless I had serious intentions ; but 
this was owing to the fact that I discovered Mrs. Richards to 
be of English birth, and knowing something of her friends 
abroad, it seemed to become a bond between us, out of which 
a friendship naturally sprung. Mrs. Richards very kindly in- 
vited me to make one of a party here, and I accepted her in- 
vitation — I give you my word of honor upon it — with onlp 
thoughts of friendship and the pleasure of meeting congenial 
company, and with the intention, if she ever came abroad, of 
returning her hospitality in the same spirit. I hope — I trust, 
my dear sir, that my coming here thus has not been miscon- 
strued, or placed Miss Richards in an awkward position.” 

The young man’s face shone with a look of real concern a*s 
he concluded, and Mr. Richards was convinced that, notwith- 
standing his wife had asserted that he would propose to Jose- 
phine, he had never entertained any serious intentions regard- 
ing her. 

“It is all right, my young friend,” he responded, heartily, 
and feeling great respect for him for his straightforwardness, 
“lam satisfied that 3^ou have been perfectly honorable, although 
I must confess that I was greatly astonished last night to learn 
that Star was the object of your affection. I regret sincerely the 
misunderstanding that has arisen between you, but we will do 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


215 

what we can to find the missing girl, and I trust that then it 
will not take long to effect a reconciliation/' 

“Thank you," the young lord said, but he looked very grave, 
for he did not feel as if it would be a very easy matter to find 
Star. He knew that underneath her usual gentleness and sweet- 
ness there lay a strength of purpose and determination which 
would lead her to do thoroughly whatever she undertook, and 
if she had gone away to hide from him it would take both 
patience and sagacity to find her. 

However, he resolved to devote all his time before the day 
set for his return should arrive in searching for her ; and acting 
at once upon this decision, he sought Mrs. Richards and Jose- 
phine, telling them that, much as he regretted doing so, he 
should be obliged to cut his visit short, as business of impor- 
tance called him unexpectedly away. 

Josephine was bitterly disappointed and chagrined, for she 
was as yet in total ignorance as to the cause of his departure, 
and Mrs. Richards for the moment was rendered speechless 
from indignation. She had not once thought that he would go 
away before the expiration of his week. 

“We shall see you again, I trust, before you leave America," 
Josephine said, with her sweetest smile, as he took her hand at 
parting. 

“Perhaps so; I cannot tell," he answered, absently. 

“We return to Brooklyn next week," Mrs. Richards now 
managed to say. “If you are in New York, you surely will find 
time to run over and call upon us now and then. " 

“Thank you. I may be able to do so," he replied, cour- 
teously ; and then, with a somewhat formal bow, he went away 
to seek for his lost love. 

“What under the sun is the matter with Lord Carrol this 
morning, mamma He does not appear like himself at all; 
and what has possessed him to, go away so soon .^" Josephine 


2T6 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


cried, nearly ready to weep as the door closed upon the man 
she loved, and she was left alone with her mother. 

Mrs. Richards then related what she had overheard the pre- 
vious evening, and told her also of her subsequent interview 
with Star and Mr. Rosevelt, and the news that had come to 
them that morning of their flight. 

Josephine listened to her in dumb amazement, hardly able 
to comprehend the romantic story. 

“That girl has done nothing but set everybody by the ears 
ever since she entered this house,’' she burst forth, at length, 
quivering in every nerve with anger. “ Lord Carrol in love with 
her! I cannot comprehend it, and I think it is scandalous for 
him to confess it, after the marked attention that he paid me at 
Long Branch.” 

“I think so, too,” Mrs. Richards echoed, but rather faintly, 
for she knew how Josephine had almost been thrown at him, 
so to speak. 

“Well, I am glad she is gone,” the excited girl continued. 
“ I hope now that we shall be able to take some comfort. She 
bewitched papa with her pretty face, her music, and pretended 
love of study. She was an artful thing, making herself so con- 
spicuous at school that even the newspapers took it up, and 
was so puffed up on account of it that lier airs were insuffer- 
able. It is a mercy that Uncle Jacob lost his fortune before 
he came to us, or she would have been likely to wheedle him 
out of it.” 

“She has been as sly as a fox,” commented Mrs. Richards, 
wrath fully, her ire against poor, unoffending Star waxing hotter 
and hotter, for she was as bitterly disappointed to lose his 
lordship as a son-in-law as Josephine was to lose him as a 
husband. 

“I never heard anything like it. To think of his being 
engaged to her, and we never suspecting such a thing! I’ll 
bet,” the refined young lady continued, as a bright idea struck 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


217 


her, ‘‘that she went away to meet him last Saturday, and that 
was why she was rigged out so. That must be the secret of 
her insolence to me. She knew she was soon to become 
Lady Carrol, and she was trying how it would seem to lord it 
over me.'' 

“You forget, Josephine," interposed her mother, “that she 
did not know anything about his title, and so you are all wrong 
in your surmises." 

“ J rue," she replied, somewhat crest-fallen; “but when do 
you suppose he engaged himself to her.^" 

“lam sure I do not know — very recently, he said. I tried 
to make her tell me about it last night, but I couldn't get a 
word out of her. One would have thought, by the way that 
she facedf me, that she was already my lady somebody. But I 
reckon I fixed it so that she will not be at present. 1 made her 
think that his lordship had told the story in a way to make her 
appear as ridiculous as possible, and she has gone away, be- 
lieving him to be as faithless as it is in the power of man to 
be;" and the hard-hearted woman threw herself back in her 
chair with a sigh of satisfaction at the thought. 

“It is a shame, anyhow. Everything has gone wrong, and 
I — I really was fond of him," Josephine confessed, with a pas- 
sion of tears. 

Mrs. Richards' face darkened. She never could tolerate any- 
thing which interfered with the desires and whims of her only 
child. 

“ Well, we will not give up hope, even yet," she said, trying 
to speak comfortingly. “We shall go back to Brooklyn next 
week, and we will try to see him as often as we can. We m\l 
visit his studio, and look at his pictures and t^ose of his friends, 
and if he is unsuccessful in his search for that girl, he may turn 
to you again for comfort." 

“ I cannot get over it that s/ie, with her great eyes and yellow 
hair, should have attracted him and won him, when we have 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


218 

strained every nerve and spent hundreds for him/' Josephine 
said, angrily. 

At this moment a servant entered the room and handed her 
a note. 

She opened it eagerly and read it. 

Her face flushed a deep crimson, and, with a passionate ges- 
ture, she instantly tore it in two. 

“What is it.'^" questioned her mother. 

“It is too dreadful!" the spoilt beauty cried, stamping her 
foot; “and I believe that girl will be the death of me yet." 

“Tell me what it is," persisted Mrs. Richards, growing pale. 

“It is a note from Lord Carrol himself," Josephine answered, 
her cheeks still hot from mortification and anger. “When we 
were at Long Branch, he noticed this cameo ring that I wear — 
I happened to put it on the last night that we were there, un- 
fortunately — and said that it was very much like one which 
belonged to a friend of his. He appeared rather strangely 
when he said it, and told me that his friend’s name was Archi- 
bald Sherbrooke. Of course I can understand now why he 
would not say that it had belonged to him. I told him that it 
was given to me by a relative, and he did not appear like him- 
self after that." 

“But how came you by it — who gave it to you.^" interrupted 
her mother, who had never noticed the ring until now, for 
Josephine had so many trinkets that she could not keep track 
of them all. 

The girl flushed again, guiltily. 

“To tell the truth, it belonged to Stella," she confessed, 
reluctantly, “and it was such an exquisite little thing that I 
took a notion to have it. I offered to buy it of her, but she 
wouldn’t hear a word of it, saying she ' prized it too highly as 
the gift of a friend.’ But I was bound to have it, and went to 
her room one day and took it, and had it made into a ring, for 
it was in the shape of a pin. Of course I intended to return 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS, 


219 


it sometime, but I meant her to understand that a girl in her 
dependent position had no business to refuse so simple a re- 
quest. The initials A. S., with two strawberry leaves, their 
stems crossed, are engraved on it, and I knew, when he de- 
scribed it to me, that it was ‘his Iriend’ — or rather himself, as 
it appears now — who had given it to her. I heartily wish now 
that I had let it alone. But just listen to this.’' 

Miss Richards took, the pieces of the note, which she had 
held crumpled in her hand, and putting them together, read 
the following : 

“ Oct. loth, 188 — . 

“ Miss Richards : — Doubtless before you receive this you will have 
learned that Archibald Sherbrooke — whom I represented to you as my 
friend, for reasons which you cannot now fail to understand — and Lord 
Carrol are one and the same person. Under the former name, which was 
the only one which belonged to me at that time, I became acquainted with 
Miss Gladstone on shipboard, and was so pleased with her that, at parting, 
I exchanged souvenirs with her, giving her a little cameo which I prized 
very highly. It is the same one which you have had made into a ring. 
When I met Miss Gladstone a short time since she remarked that she had 
‘ lost ’ my gift ; last night she told me how she had ‘ lost * it, and I would 
respectfully ask you to send it to the inclosed address, that 1 may return 
it to the owner, should I be so happy as to find her. 

“Very respectfully, 

“Archibald Sherbrooke, Bart., and 
Lord Carrol, of Carrolton.” 

“Why on earth can’t you let other folks' things alone, Jose- 
phine cried Mrs. Richards, when her daughter had finished 
reading this formal note, and feeling almost faint from mortifi- 
cation upon learning of this disgraceful episode in her life. “I’m 
sure,” she added, reproachfully, “you have trinkets enough 
without taking the only thing a poor girl had.” 

“Isn’t your commiseration somewhat ill-timed, mamma, for 
the ‘ poor girl, ’ now that she is not here to reap the benefit of 
it.^” sneered the dutiful young lady. “I don’t care; it is an 
elegant trifle, anyhow, and I’ve half a mind to keep it, in 


220 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


spite of his lordship’s demand,” she added, defiantly, as she 
held up her hand, on which the ring gleamed, and regarded it 
covetously. 

But she did return it, nevertheless; she did not quite dare to 
retain it, particularly as she could not relinquish all hope of 
winning the young lord even yet. 

Mr. Richards, accompanied by Lord Carrol, proceeded with 
all possible dispatch to New York, and thence to Brooklyn, 
where they went directly to the seminary which Star attended, 
and inquired for her. 

It was only half-past ten when they arrived there, but early 
as it was. Professor Roberts told them that she had come at the 
usual hour and severed her connection with the school, and 
very much to his regret, he added, as he considered her one of 
the most promising members of the senior class. 

Both gentlemen looked blank at this information ; they did 
not suppose Star would be so energetic to cover all traces of 
her flight. 

She had asked, the professor said, for a recommendation, 
that she might more easily enter some other, as she hoped to 
be able to complete her course, although she did not tell him 
where she was going. 

“And I did,” he continued ; “I gave her the very best one 
that could be put into words, for she deserved it. But what is 
this you tell me — that she has left her home without the knowl- 
edge of her friends.?” and he appeared deeply troubled. 

“Yes; but it is only on account of a slight misunderstand- 
ing, and one which would have been very easily explained if 
she bad not been quite so hasty; and I hope we shall be able 
to find her and make it right very scon.” 

“I trust so; I am very sorry to part with her,” said the pro- 
fessor, gravely, while he measured the young lord vvith his 
keen eyes, mistrustirg that he was somehow concerned in the 
mystery. “I had anticipated taking her through the course 


FRUITLESS EFFORTS. 


221 


and presenting her with her diploma. I tell you, sir, Miss 
Gladstone bids fair to become a most brilliant woman. Why, 
the essay which slie read at our last cornmencem jnt would 
have been a credit to the most profound literary talent in the 
counlrv. '' 

Lord Carrol's eyes glowed at these praises of his darling ; but 
Mr. Richards winced under them, for his conscience was smiting 
him keenly for ever having allowed Star to occupy so question- 
able a position in his family. 

“You will oblige me if you will account for her absence in 
some casual way, if you are questioned about it," he said. “I 
should be sorry to have anything unpleasant said of her." 

“Certainly; you may rely upon my being very discreet, for 
her sake," Professor Roberts returned, somewhat stiffly. 

He bowed his visitors out, and then returned to his duties; 
but all day Icng, and for many days, he missed the bright, 
earnest lace of his “most promising scholar," her brilliant 
recitations, and the respectful attention which she had always 
given him. 

As for Mr. Richards and Lord Carrol, their w’ay seemed sud- 
denly hedged up; they did not know which way to turn next. 
They knew it would be very difficult to find any one in the 
great city of New York, and it was possible that the fugitives 
had left the metropolis, although Mr. Richards, knowing how 
ambitious Star was to complete her education, was inclined to 
think she would remain there until she had accomplished 
this end. 

Still Lord Carrol was determined not to relinquish his search 
for her, and he neglected painting and everything else, riding 
from one end of the city to another day after day, unweariedly 
visiting schools on week days, and haunting churches on Sun- 
day, until the day of his departure arrived; but all his efforts 
were unavailing and fruitless. 

An advertisement was inserted in all the daily papers. 


222 


THE GOAL REACHED. 


‘‘Star, let me justify myself!'' That was all; and Star, in 
her hiding-place, read it many times with curling lips and 
scornful eyes. 

“There can be no justification," she said; “one man bear- 
ing two names and deceiving two girls, can never be justified." 

But her heart ached none the less, for, with shame she owned 
it, she loved him still. The days seemed endless, her duties 
arduous and monotonous; she grew thin, her step lost its 
elasticity, and she was as miserable as even Josephine, in her 
most malicious mood, could have wished. 

November came, and with it the day of Archibald Sherbrooke’s 
sailing for England. 

No one ever returned to his native land with a sadder heart 
and deeper regret than the young Lord of Carrolton, and he 
would not have gone even then, but that some urgent business 
connected with his uncle’s estate, and his duties as his heir, 
imperatively demanded it. He would have much preferred to 
remain and search for the fair girl whom he loved so devotedly. 

But he resolved to return to America at the earliest possible 
date and resume his efforts to find her. 


CHAPTER XXH. 

THE GOAL REACHED. 

The winter passed, the summer came again, and on a sunny 
day in June the great chapel of the Normal College of New York 
city was packed with human beings to its utmost capacity. 

Upon the broad platform were seated the professors, the 
tutors, and guests, while the body of the vast hall was filled 


THE GOAL REACHED. 


223 

with its fifteen hundred students, attentive and vigilant like so 
many soldiers at their posts. 

Tiiese were girls all the way from fourteen to twenty years of 
age ; girls of every shade of complexion and degree of beauty, 
or the reverse ; bright maidens with latent mischief twinkling 
in their eyes, of every variety of color and shade ; lasses of 
mercurial temperament, such as keep a household in a state of 
excitement and tumult, brimming with animal spirits and kit- 
tenish pranks. Others there were, however, with quiet serenity 
and dignity of manner, having sweet, clear-cut faces, and gentle 
ways shining through their countenances ; and those, too — let 
us whisper it — with a suspicion of the vixen and virago ; prudes 
and tomboys, angels and shrews — all mixed indiscriminately 
in that immense place, gathered for the final act of the school 
year — the graduating exercises, the distributing of the diplomas, 
and the departure of the senior class from the halls of learning 
out into the great world, there to take up their duties as 
teachers. 

Among the large number of this class who occupy, on this 
occasion, the front seats in the chapel, there is one quiet figure, 
having a pale, delicate face, large, deep blue eyes, and a fair, 
gleaming brow, shaded by hair of brightest gold, which more 
than one of the numerous visitors have singled out from her 
sister graduates, on account of her peculiar loveliness and an 
indefinite something which seems to appeal to them from the 
depths of her lovely but rather sorrowful eyes. ’ 

Slight of form, unassuming in manner, but with a dainty, 
star-like beauty that was almost magnetic in its influence, she 
sat quieily in her seat until one of the professors announced 
the “Address in French,’' as per programme, when she arose, 
and Miss Star Gladstone at once stepped upon the platform, 
saluting first the officers, teachers, and guests, then her fellow- 
students, with a charming little bow and a gracefull inclination 
of her body. 


224 


THE GOAL REACHED, 


In clear, bell-like tones she began her address, without the 
slightest appearance cf self-consciousness or embarrassment, 
rolling cut sentence after sentence in the smoothest and purest 
of French, until those who were well versed in the language 
wondered at such proficiency in one so young, while those who 
could not understand it were spell-bound by her exquisite voice 
and graceful gestures. 

Star had be m well taught in French before coming to this 
country, until it had become almost like her native tongue; 
therefore, after a year of arduous study under the best of teachers 
at the Normal College, it is not strange that she should have 
been chosen, on account of her purity of accent, to deliver the 
French oration. 

“Who is she.^’' questioned one of the visitors of a teacher. 

“Miss Gladstone,’' she answered, pointing to the name on 
the programme. 

“How lovely she is, in that simple lace bunting, trimmed 
with its knots of blue ribbon, and those blush-roses in her 
belt !" 

“So I think/' the teacher replied, with an affectionate glance 
at Star. “She has only been with us a year, however. She 
was hardly up to the mark when she entered the class, 
although she came highly recommended by Professor Roberts 
of Brooklyn. Our standard, you know, is very high. But she 
was anxious to enter V e senior class, and assured us that she 
would not drag, and said she was particularly anxious to gradu- 
ate this year.’' 

“And she has done w'ell, I am sure," the visitor said, bending 
another admiring glance upon the fair graduate. 

“She has been one of the most brilliant scholars of the class. 
Her recitations have been wonderlul. I do not think she has 
made a single failure during the entire year. If she had been 
with us throughout the course, she must have taken the valedic- 


THE GOAL REACHED, 


225 

tory ; but she has acquitted herself grandly in the French essay, 
which she composed and translated herself.” 

‘'She has, indeed. I never heard purer French spoken, even 
in Paris. Does she live in the city?” 

"1 believe so, although I do not know Vvhere. She comes 
and goes very quietly, and her clothing indicates that her 
friends, whoever they may be, are in limited circumstances. 
She appears to have no intimates, and yet she is a favorite with 
all. There must be some sorrowful story connected with her 
life, I think, for there is a haunting sadness in her eyes whenever 
they meet yours, except when she smiles or becomes animated 
in conversation; then she is charming.” 

"I should like to know her,” said the first speaker, musingly; 
but President Hunter here arose to distribute the diplomas, 
and she gave her attention to his remarks, although her glance 
frequently sought the lovely face which had so attracted her 
attention. 

The subject of the above conversation, although unconscious 
of it, was none the less worthy of it. 

After leaving Jacob Rosevelt on the night of her exciting im 
terview with Mrs. Richards, she sped swiftly back to her room, 
where she gathered together a few articles of clothing and 
^ packed them into a small valise ; her school-books also, with 
her portfolio and the small box which had so aroused Jose- 
phine's curiosity that day when she went to steal Star's lovely 
cameo. 

These preparations ended, she retired to rest. 

She awoke long before daylight, and dressing herself in a 
dark street dress, she sat down by the window to wait for the 
dawn. 

She penned that little note to Mrs. Blunt the last thing before 
leaving the house. The woman had been so kind to her that 
she could not find it in her heart to go away without a single 
word of farewell ; to the others she gave not a thought. 


226 


THE GOAL REACHED. 


As soon as it was light enough, she stole softly down stairs 
and out at the front door, as it was nearer, and, besides, some 
of the servants might be up if she went out the back way, and 
turned her back forever upon the house in which she had only 
been ‘‘tolerated/* 

When she reached the lodge, she found Mr. Rosevelt waiting 
for her on the vine-covered porch. 

He smiled a silent good-morning, motioning her not to 
speak, with a gesture which told her that John Mellen’s wife 
was not far off ; and together they went out from the grounds 
bv a side gate and proceeded toward the station. 

They were in time for the early morning train, and reached 
New York long before the household which they had left behind 
were aware of their flight. 

“We will go to some quiet street and board for a few days/* 
Mr. Rosevelt said, as they sat down in the waiting-room of the 
station to consult upon what was best to be done. “You must 
not lose a day of school if you can help it. I know just the 
place for us, I think, where there is a good, motherly soul of a 
landlady. Perhaps she will know of some rooms which we can 
obtain at a reasonable price until you graduate, and then, per- 
haps, you may not care to remain in New York.** 

Star assented to this plan, and they repaired to the boarding-* 
place which Mr. Rosevelt had mentioned, and found the “good, 
motherly soul** very willing to take them in. 

After partaking of a simple but wholesome breakfast. Star 
went at once to Brooklyn, and had an interview with Professor 
Roberts, as we already know. 

She told him just as little as was possible, but said that cir- 
cumstances obliged her to make a change, although she had 
not yet decided where she should pursue her education. 

She was surprised at the recommendation which he gave her, 
for it was indeed the very best that he could put into words, 


THE GOAL EE ACHED. 


227 

and she felt very sad when he shook her cordially by the hand 
and expressed his regret at being obliged to part with her. 

On her way back to New York she decided, if she could 
pass the examination, she would enter the Normal College, 
believing that among the multitude who attended there she , 
would escape observation more easily than in a smaller school. 

She went immediately to the corner of Sixty-ninth street and 
Fourth avenue, had an interview with the president, who con- 
sented to give her a private examination ; but the curriculum 
was a little different from that of Professer Roberts' seminary, and ^ 

she was not quite up to the standard in some of its branches, \ 

and being unwilling to go back into another grade, she was 
admitted to the senior class, '‘upon conditions." 

She was not long in showing him, however, that such a stipu- 
lation was wholly unnecessary. 

She gave up all thoughts of music for the present, and bent 
all her energies to her studies, and soon not one of the forty 
who were to graduate gave promise of a more brilliant ending 
to her career as a scholar than she who had been admitted 
“upon condiiions. " 

Meantime Mr. Rosevelt had found three furnished rooms in 
a cheap but respectable locality, where they took up their abode, 
the woman, who owned and lived in the house, agreeing to 
furnish their meals and act as sort of housekeeper general for a 
reasonable amount. 

Mr. Rosevelt would not hear a word to any other arrange- 
ment, although Star declared she could do a portion of the 
work herself. 

“No; ycu shall do nothing of the kind. You will have all 
you can attend to to keep up with your classes," he said. 

“But it will cost so much, Uncle Jacob," Star answered, 
ruefully, for she found that her poor hundred pounds was melt- 
ing rapidly away — at least, it would do so if they paid for having 
all their work done. Mr. Rosevelt smiled. 


228 


THE GOAL EE ACHED. 


dear/^ he said, though somewhat sadly, she thought, 
‘‘you did not suppose I was going to allow you to assume the 
burden of my whole support, did you? I never should have 
consented to come away with you in that case. I am not quite 
penniless, and what I can afford to pay toward our support will 
at least relieve you of all necessity of laboring as a household 
drudge. '' 

They were as cozy as they could well be with their simple 
yet home-like little parlor, and two bedrooms leading out of 
it, and with their meals served to them there, it was very much 
like a home of their own. 

“It is just as nice as can be, and I am happy as a queen,'' 
Star declared, over and over again ; but he often looked troubled 
when he saw how thin her cheeks were growing, noticed her 
oft-repeated but quickly suppressed sighs, and that “haunting 
sadness " in her eyes. 

They lived in a very quiet way, never going out except for a 
quiet walk or to the little church near by on Sunday, and never 
met or heard anything of Mr. Richards or his family. 

Star had read that advertisement relating to herself, and it 
had caused her bitter pain, for it brought all her suffering so 
freshly to her mind ; but she had not the least faith that Lord 
Carrol could say anything which could justify himself in her 
mind. She felt that he only desired to cheat her still further 
with honeyed words, and so paid no heed to it 

Mr. Rosevelt also saw it, and wondered if she had read it ; 
but she gave no sign, and he never mentioned that name to her; 
it was a topic which they avoided by tacit consent. 

Once during the year, when speaking of what she should do 
as soon as she graduated, she said that she had decided to apply 
for a situation as teacher in the city; she had concluded to 
remain in America instead of returning to England, as she had 
at first planned to do. 

He did not ask her why ; he understood what she meant — 


THE GOAL REACHED, 


229 


she wished the sea to roll between her and the man who had so 
ruined her life ; and perhaps, he thought, with a very tender 
feeling in his heart, she wanted to stay with him. 

Thus' the year sped round, and brought with its revolution 
another commencement day for Star. 

“Uncle Jacob, you are coming to-day to see me graduate, 
are you not.?*'" she asked that morning, as she poured his coffee 
for him, and looking up into his face with more eagerness than 
he had seen her manifest since her trouble. 

“Of course I shall ; I would not miss it for anything. Then 
you have really passed your final examination, and are going 
to receive your diploma ?” he said, bending a look of pride 
on her. 

“Indeed I have. You did not suppose 1 should fail, did 
you, if I really set about it?” she asked, with a little accent of 
scorn on the disagreeable word. 

“ I did not know, dear. I was confident that you would 
do your best ; but you told me you were only received upon 
conditions, and I sometimes feared the work might be too hard 
for you.'' 

“I should not have begged to be allowed to enter the 
senior class if 1 had not felt confident that I could do justice to 
myself," Star answered, quietly, as she buttered her roll. “I 
considered the matter thoroughly before I applied. I had 
already read almost as far in Latin as the whole course de- 
manded, and my French, thanks to papa's care, was nearly 
equal in pronunciation to monsieur's own. The review of 
some of the studies of the junior class, with which I was not 
familiar, and the training for teaching, were all that was very 
hard for me." 

She spoke lightly, but he well knew that she had labored un- 
remittingly upon those reviews, and that she had spent many 
extra hours with one of the “critic" teachers, who had kindly 


230 


THE GOAL REACHED. 


offered to assist her, in order that she might be up to the mark 
in the practice of ‘‘model school-teaching/' 

Thus she had persevered and overcome every obstacle until 
the goal was reached, and to-day she would receive her diploma. 

And so Uncle Jacob had gone to the great chapel with other 
interested friends, and watched the dear girl with glistening 
eyes while she so creditably performed the part assigned to her, 
feeling that she was an honor to her class, and in his eyes, at 
least, the gem of them all. 

That evening there was to be a grand reunion in a com- 
modious hall near by, where graduates of previous years were 
to meet the senior class of to-day, to offer their congratulations 
on their success and their good wishes for their future career. 

Star had no fine clothes in which to make a show of herself, 
and was obliged to go clad in the same simple lace bunting 
that she had worn during the day ; but she gave herself an air 
of elegance by substituting some bright flowers for the knots 
of blue ribbon, and excitement lending a rich color to her 
cheeks and light to her eyes, no one thought of criticising her 
garments. 

Jacob Rosevelt, too, dressed in a full new suit of handsome 
broadcloth, with a satin neck-tie and light kid gloves, did not 
look much like the bent, shabby old man who had arrived, 
dusty and travel-stained, at Mr. Richards' mansion a little less 
than a year ago. 

“Where did you get it. Uncle Jacob Star exclaimed, as he 
came forth from his chamber and asked her if she thought 
he'd do. 

He smiled mysteriously, then said : 

“I told you that I was not quite a beggar, dear, when I left 
my niece Ellen's inhospitable roof, and so I've been saving up 
for this occasion, in order that I might do honor to you." 

“You are just as fine as you can be," Star said, delightedly, 
as she went round and round him to examine the material and 


THE GOAL REACHED, 


231 


fashion of his new garments, ‘^and I do not believe any one 
will be more proud of her escort to-night than I shall be ; and 
yet,'' she thought, ‘‘Uncle Jacob must have been very saving 
indeed to have been able to buy such an expensive suit." 

His eyes glowed with pleasure at her words ; but when they 
entered the brilliantly lighted hall, and he saw the elegant 
toilets of some of the young ladies, he could not help regarding 
her with something of regret, although very many admiring 
eyes were fixed upon the arm of the stately, gray-haired gentle- 
man, as they went forward to pay their respects to President 
Hunter and his corps of assistants. 

“ Miss Gladstone, I have a friend who desires to be presented 
to you," said one of Star's teachers, seeking her out later in the 
evening. 

She led her toward a lady who was standing a little apart 
from them, and who appeared to be three or four years Star's 
senior, and introduced her as Miss Meredith. 

It was the visitor who had inquired so particularly regarding 
our heroine during the graduating exercises. 

She was drawn toward her at once, and they were soon 
chatting as sociably as if they had been acquaintances of long 
standing. 

While thus engaged, a gentleman approached them, greeting 
both young ladies in the most cordial manner. 

“I was hoping that you two would meet to-night," he said, 
bestowing a smiling face upon them both. “ Miss Meredith is 
a graduate of two years ago, Miss Gladstone, and I am sure 
you will find her a congenial spirit." 

“Thank you, Mr. Appleton," Miss Meredith responded, 
brightly; “but you should have put it the other way, for I 
have been very impatient to meet Miss Gladstone. I singled 
her out from her class to-day, and felt sure that we should be 
en rapport, as the spiritualists say, if we could only become 
acquainted." 


232 


THE GOAL REACHED. 


‘‘Well, I think it does not matter much v;hich way you put 
it, now that you know each other,"' the gentleman returned, 
smiling ; then turning to Star, he added : 

“So, my young friend, you have really ‘run the race, and 
finished the course;" and now do you remember the promise 
which you made me several months ago?"" 

Star flushed vividly at this question. 

“Did I make you a promise, Mr. Appleton?'" she asked, 
evasively, adding, with an arch glance: “1 thought it was_y^?« 
who made me a promise."" 

He laughed and shook his finger at her. 

“You said that on your eighteenth birthday I might reveal a 
secret. "" 

“And you promised you would not reveal it until I was 
eighteen,"" she retorted, brightly, although the color deepened 
in her cheeks as she continued : “I am not eighteen yet, Mr. 
Appleton."" 

“No, but you will be to-morrow. You see I have not for- 
gotten the date. Now, let me take time by the forelock a little, 
and whisper to Miss Meredith who the author of ‘Chatsworth's 
Pride" is. She has been on the qui vive to know ever since the 
book was published,"" Mr. Appleton said, bending a roguish 
look upon Star, who now stood with drooping eyes and appear- 
ing somewhat confused. 

“Oh, do you know? Is it some friend of yours, Miss Glad- 
stone?"" Miss Meredith said, eagerly, to her. “ I think it is so 
tantalizing not to know the name of the author of a book,"" 
she went on, “particularly if it is one you happen to like very 
much; and here this provoking man who published this one 
only put a great star where he should have printed the author’s 
name. Do tell me, please. Miss Gladstone; I am, indeed, all 
curiosity. "" 

Then remarking Star's embarrassment, she looked from her 
to Mr. Appleton, questioningly. 


THE GOAL REACHED, 


233 


** Is it?’' she went on, excitedly, as he smiled and glanced at 
the fair girl. ‘'Can it be possible that it is Miss Gladstone 
herself? I believe it is,” she said, with sparkling eyes, as she 
seized Star's hands; “and oh ! what can I say to you? It is a 
charming littl6 book, and I have enjoyed it more than I can 
tell you. There ! let me shake the hand that wrote it, and if I 
had a laurel wreath here I would put it on this golden head and 
make you wear it the remainder of the evening.” 

And she squeezed and shook that small, white, gloved hand 
until Star laughingly begged for mercy. 

“See what you have subjected me to,” she said, with a half- 
reproachful look at Mr. Appleton. 

“You might just as well make the best of it, my modest 
little friend,” that gentleman replied, laughing. “I have kept 
silence for a year under the most trying circumstances, for I 
have been unmercifully besieged to tell who the author of 
‘ Chatsworth’s Pride’ is, and I could not stand the fire any 
longer. My time is too valuable to be spent in any such w'ay ; 
and I came here to-night not only to congratulate you upon 
your graduation, but also to introduce my fair young author to 
my friends. Yes, Miss Meredith, Miss Stella Gladstone is the 
author of ‘ Chatsworth’s Pride.” 

“Miss Stella Gladstone?” Miss Meredith repeated. 

“Yes; and, you perceive, I was not far from giving the name 
after all. I w^as obliged to ‘ make her mark,’ since I could not 
write her name,” returned Mr. Appleton, jocosely. 

“Ah, yes, I see. Stella means a star; and certainly,” Miss 
Meredith said, turning to her new acquaintance again, “you 
bid fair to shine like one.” 


234 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

AN INTERESTING STORY. 

Jacob Rosevelt stood not far away during the conversation 
between Mr. Appleton, Miss Meredith, and Star, and a proud 
light beamed in his eyes as he listened to their praises of the 
girl whom he had learned to love so well. 

But it was nothing new to him that Star was an authoress ; 
he had known it for nearly a year. 

That was the secret that she had whispered in his ear when, 
after Mrs. Richards' terrible accusations, they had been left 
alone and she had begged him to go away with her to make a 
little home of their own, telling him that what she should 
receive for her book, together with her hundred pounds, would 
be ample for their support until she could graduate and obtain 
a position as a teacher. 

She had written it that first winter; for after Mr. Richards 
had vetoed his wife's plan of making her a servant, and insisted 
that she should be sent to school, there had been many lonely 
hours which would have been very irksome to her if she had 
not spent them in this way. 

Her studies that winter were not hard ; she had no associates 
to help her pass the time pleasantly, and so her heart had over- 
flowed in this way, and she had penned the charming little 
romance which had at once set everybody to wondering who 
the author might be. 

This was the package with which she had stolen forth so early 
one morning, taking it with fear and trembling, yet with some- 
thing of hope, to the great publisher. 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


235 


When she was shown into his office and made known her 
errand there, he looked at her in wonder, astonished at the 
temerity of one so young and simple as she appeared to be in 
bringing her manuscript to him and asking him to publish it. 

But the deferential yet winning way in which she made her 
appeal, and the influence of her loveliness, won a reluctant 
promise on his part ‘‘to look it over ” 

He did so, opening the neatly folded package with an amused 
smile, and expecting after a casual glance at its contents to be 
nauseated with some sickly sentimental love-story. 

But he became strangely interested in it at once, and read 
on and on, now with smiles, then melting into tears, until it 
was finished, and pronounced a “little gem;” while he was 
convinced that a sensitive, refined, and talented girl had thrown 
her heart, and perhaps something of her own life, into those 
touching pages. 

He sent a note to her at once, asking her to come and see 
him again, and when she obeyed the summons, he questioned 
her about herself, how she had come to write her book, and 
what incidents had suggested it. 

She told him that the scene of her little romance was laid in 
Derbyshire, England, and that many of the incidents were con- 
nected with her childhood ; and the tears sprang to his eyes as 
she related to him something of the misfortune which overtook 
her in the death of her mother, the subsequent loss of her 
father, and bow she was obliged to come, a stranger, to this 
country; of the tempestuous voyage across the ocean, wdth its 
thrilling events, and that as soon as she could complete her 
education she intended to become a teacher. 

He was greatly interested in her, and told her that he should 
publish her book, and if the first edition sold well, she should 
have a thousand dollars, and a certain per cent, on all other 
editions. 

It seemed like a fortune to Star, who had not thought of 


236 


AN INTERESTING STORY, 


receiving anything like such a sum, and she went back to hei 
duties with a joyful heart to await the issue of her book. 

Mr. Appleton was so pleased with her that he saw her often 
after that, and having received a card from her for the com- 
mencement exercises of Professor Roberts' seminary, he decided 
he would go ; and the little package which he had given her 
in the presence of Mr. Richards was a copy of her book, which 
had just come to him from the hands of the binders ; and it 
was he, too, who, admiring her fine essay, begged it of her and 
sent it, with those few flattering remarks which had so annoyed 
Josephine, to the next morning’s papers. 

Star had put no name to her work, telling Mr. Appleton that 
she did not care to be known as its author; and he, too, 
thought it best, since it was her first experience in liteiary mat- 
ters ; so, when she had told him that her name was Stella, he 
had put a simple Star in place of it. 

But the book had sold beyond even the publisher’s most 
sanguine expectations, and when it became evident very soon 
that a second edition must be published, he asked her to allow 
him to put her name to it, as everybody was besieging him to 
know who wrote it. 

But she was firm, and insisted upon having his promise that 
he would not betray her until after her graduation and her 
eighteenth birthday. 

When he wrote her a check for the promised thousand dol- 
lars, she had taken it directly to Mr. Rosevelt. 

Now we need have no fears for the future,” she said, with a 
proud smile, as she put it into his hand. *‘You must have 
every comfort. Uncle Jacob — fruits, and wines, and eveiy- thing 
nice, to make you strong and well. There will be more coming, 
you know, as the other editions are sold, and when I begin to 
teach I shall have my salary besides.” 

The old gentleman was deeply touched by her thoughtful- 
ness for him; he could not speak for the choking sensation in 


AN- INTERESTING STORT, 


f37 


his throat, but drew jher gently to him and kissed her fail fore- 
head, feeling that she was the only gleam of sunshine which his 
life contained. 

Now, as he stood by and heard her praises sung, and knew 
that she would have the fame that belonged to her, he exulted 
over it; and when, a little later, she came to him and slipped 
an envelope into his hand, saying : “It is another check. Uncle 
Jacob, which Mr. Appleton has just given to me. Please take 
care of it, for you are my banker, you know; and,” a tear start- 
ing to her glorious eyes, “I believe I never expected to be so 
happy again as I am to-night,” he thought his own cup of joy 
was nearly as full as hers. 

She w’as, indeed, a star after that all through the evening, 
and held a right royal little court, receiving and making the 
acquaintance of the admirers of “ Chatsworth’s Pride,” until 
she became so weary that she longed to get home to quiet 
and rest. 

As soon as she could find an opportunity to do so, she drew 
Mr. Rosevelt to President Hunter and made her adieu. 

Just as she was turning away, some one touched her on 
the arm. 

“ Miss Gladstone, allow me to present my brother, Mr. Ralph 
Meredith.” 

It \vas Miss Meredith — Grace Meredith she had told Star she 
\7as called — who spoke, and looking up, she found a pair of 
brilliant dark eyes looking into hers, a handsome face smiling 
down upon her, while a musical voice acknowledged the intro- 
duction with evident pleasure. 

“I expect you are the * star' whom I have been wishing to 
know for a long time,” he said, significantly, as he took the 
hand she held out to him, and thought he had never seen a 
lovelier face in his life. 

Star thanked him with a charming smile for his interest in 
her, and introduced him to Mr. Rosevelt; then turned to Miss 


238 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


Meredith to escape from the praises wh^ich she saw he was 
longing to pour into her ears. 

The young man was somewhat chagrined at being thus sum- 
marily disposed of, but he was too polite and good-natured to 
betray it, and did his best to make himself agreeable to the old 
gentleman and win his good-will. 

Gradually, however, he managed to attract the attention of 
the young ladies, and then the conversation became general, 
and they chatted pleasantly for several minutes, until, at a look 
from Star, Mr. Rosevelt declared they must go, ‘‘for he was not 
used to late hours, and Star, he knew, was nearly worn out with 
the excitement of the day.” 

Mr. Meredith regretted that they must leave, but begged, 
with his most captivating smile : 

“May I have the pleasure, jVliss Gladstone, of coming with 
my sister to call upon you 

“Certainly,” Star answered, graciously, for she was pleased 
with both brother and sister. “I shall be very happy to have 
you do so. We live ” 

“ Wait a minute. Star, and I will write our address down for 
them. It is so difficult to remember numbers, I am afraid they 
will forget;” and taking a leaf from a small note-book that was 
in his pocket, Mr. Rosevelt wrote both street and number and 
passed it to young Meredith. 

Star thought he looked surprised as he read it. Was it be- 
cause of the humble locality.? she wondered. 

They then exchanged good-nights and parted. When they 
reached the street, Mr. Rosevelt said : 

“I am going to call a carriage, dear, for I know you are just 
ready to drop from weariness;” and Star did not object, for she 
was indeed exceedingly tired. 

When they reached home she insisted upon making a cup of 
tea for Uncle Jacob, saying that he was not accustomed to such 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


239 

late hours and dissipation; ^‘and besides,” she added, with a 
smile, ‘‘she felt like having a drop herself.” 

But the old gentleman was so absent-minded over his tea, 
that she felt almost guilty for having kept him up so late, and 
feared he would be ill to-morrow. 

She put away the tea things when they were through, and 
was about to light her lamp to retire, when he stopped her, 
saying : 

“Star, my dear, come and sit down upon this ottoman by 
me; I have something I wish to say to you.” 

She obeyed, wondering what had happened to make him 
look and speak so gravely. 

“Are you realfy happy to-night, my child?” he asked, tenderly. 

A startled look came into the girls eyes at this question, and 
her heart leaped with sudden pain as her thoughts went bound- 
ing over the sea to one to whom she had given the first grand 
passion of her soul. 

“Uncle Jacob,” she answered, gravely, though he could see 
the quiver about ' her lips, which she tried in vain to repress, 
“lam happier than I ever expected to be again. It is useless 
to regret or mourn over the past. I have tried to be sensible 
over it, but sometimes, I am afraid, I have not succeeded very 
well,” she said, with a smile that was a trifle bitter. “If,” she 
added, more brightly, a moment after, “that one episode could 
have been left out of my life, I believe there would be nothing 
to mar it now.” 

“I would that it could have been so,” Mr. Rosevelt sighed. 
“ But I want you to listen to me for a little while. I know it 
is latey and you ought to go to rest, but I particularly wish to 
tell you a short story of my life to-night. It is a page which 
has been turned from sight for many years, and no one has ever 
read it save myself. You are about entering upon a new era 
in your life. I have learned to love you very tenderly, my child, 
and I want to bind you yet closer to me.' 


240 


AN INTERESTING STORY, 


‘‘Why, Uncle Jacob, you do not think I have any idea of 
going away from you, I hope,” Star said, in surprise. 

“No, for I have grown to feel that you belong to me. I 
want you to think so, too, and I am going to tell you why. 
Fate — or Providence, I suppose, you would say — has thrown us 
together in a strange way, considering all things. Do you re- 
member telling me, on board that ill-fated steamer, that your 
name was Star Rosevelt Gladstone, and how surprised you were 
when you learned that my last name was the same as your 
middle one?” 

“Yes, sir; and I still think it a strange coincidence,” Star 
answered. 

“Perhaps you will be more surprised when I tell you that 
you were named for me.” 

Star looked up astonished at him. 

“ How can that be possible?” she asked. 

“ In this way,” Mr. Rosevelt returned, a shade of pain cross- 
ing his face. “ When your grandmother, Stella Winthrop — that 
was her name before her marriage, was it not?” 

“Yes; and that is all I know about her. Uncle Jacob,” Star 
answered, with a troubled look. “Papa never said much about 
his friends. Indeed, he did not appear to have any relatives, 
and never would allow me to question him about them. Once 
I said something to him about my name, and he remarked : 
‘Your grandmother once told me that if ever I had a little girl 
of my own, she would like me to call her Stella Rosevelt, and 
that is how you came by it.' 

“ ‘Where is my grandmother, papa?’ I asked. ^ 

“ ‘She is dead,’ he said, and immediately left the room, 
looking so pale and miserable that I never dared ask him any- 
thing more about her.” 

“ It seems strange that / should be the one to tell you about 
her,” Mr. Rosevelt said, thoughtfully, “and I am puzzled to 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


241 


know why he should have been so reticent. Did your father 
ever have any trouble with his family.?” 

‘‘Not that I know of; and yet,” Star said, flushing, “there 
was some trouble about his marriage with mamma, though that 
seems to have been on the part of her family rather than his. 
Mrs. Richards once twitted me about mamma — who was a sort 
of cousin to her — having married beneath her.” 

“I do not see how that could have been, for the Mr. Glad- 
stone who married Stella Winthrop was a very wealthy and im- 
portant man in the county of Devonshire — at least, I was told 
so — and if your father was his son, he might have married 
almost any one he chose, and have conferred an honor in so 
doing. But this is not telling you my story. 

“When Stella Winthrop was of your age, and I three or four 
years older, we met at a large reception in London. That 
meeting was fatal to us both, for we loved from that hour as 
true lovers ever love. For six months the world was like 
Paradise to us, and then I was called away to the far East on 
business for the firm with which I was connected. I am an 
American, but most of my life has been spent abroad. 

“ If I was successful in my business undertaking, it was 
agreed that I might claim my bride when I returned at the end 
of two years. The vessel on which I sailed was wrecked — I 
have had more than one such experience you see, my dear — 
and it was reported that every passenger on board was lost, 
while only a very few of the crew lived to tell the story of the 
disaster. But I was fortunate enough to secure a large cask, 
and with this I managed to keep afloat for two days, when I 
was picked up by a sailing-vessel bound for the Philippine 
Islands. 

“My first work upon reaching land was to write to Stella 
and tell her of my safety ; but my letter never reached her. I 
also notified the firm that I was all right, and should proceed 
directly about the business upon which I had been sent, but 


242 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


they knew nothing of my connection with Miss Winthrop, and 
accordingly did not communicate with her. I kept writing at 
intervals to my beloved, but never heard anything in return. 
At last, in despair, I wrote to the firm, telling them of my en- 
gagement, and asking them to notify her of my safety and give 
her my address in case she should have happened to lose the 
one I had given her. In leply, they said that the Winthrop 
family had gone abroad for an indefinite stay. Of course this 
was a great trial to me, and I was exceedingly impatient ; but 
my two years were over at last, and I turned my face toward 
England once more. I had succeeded in my business beyond 
my most sanguine expectations, and I looked forward to the 
immediate fulfillment of my hopes when I should return. 

“ My first duty on reaching London was to acquaint my em- 
ployers with the result of my transactions, and my next thought 
was for Stella — my bright Star. Never for an instant had I 
doubted her fidelity ; I believed she would be as true to me as 
I was to her, and my heart beat high with hope as I bounded 
up the familiar steps leading to her home and rang the bell. I 
asked for Miss Winthrop of the maid who answered my sum- 
mons, and she stared at me as if she thought me demented. 

‘Miss Winthrop she repeated. ‘There is no Miss Win- 
throp, sir; she was married and went away nearly a year ago.' 

‘ “Married!’ The word was like a thunderbolt to me, and 
in an instant all the light went out of my life — my heart was 
paralyzed. I staggered from the place, and hid myself from 
every one for a week. Then I gained something of calmness 
and courage to go out among my friends and try to learn how 
it happened that Stella Winthrop had married. As I told you 
before, it was reported that every passenger on the vessel in 
which I sailed was lost. Those of the crew who were saved 
affirmed that such was the case, and my betrothed had believed 
that I was dead. 

She grieved herself almost to death over my loss, and her 


AN INTERESTING STORY, 


243 


parents, fearing they would lose her also, took her abroad and 
traveled for many months. It was during this absence that the 
firm received my letter relating to her, but were unable to learn 
her address, as she was moving from point to point, and so 
could not communicate with her. 

‘‘Six months after learning my fate, she met Mr. Gladstone 
in Paris. He fell in love with her, and offered himself to her. 
He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, was kind and 
sympathetic, and she liked him as a friend. She told him the 
story of her grief, and that she could never marry. He did 
not sneer at her ‘girlish folly,' as many would have done, but 
comforted her, speaking so kindly and regretfully of me that 
he won even a warmer place in her heart. He was patient with 
her, and when at length a second time he asked her to marry 
him, she told him that she could never love him as she had 
loved me, but if he could be content to take her with what 
respect she could give him, and the duty she would strive to 
yield him, she would become his wife. He told her he would 
be content, and they were married — a year and three months 
after I sailed on the fatal voyage. 

“ They traveled several months longer, and when at length 
on their return to London, only three or four months before I 
arrived there, she learned that Hhad not perished, but was soon 
expected back, the shock nearly killed her a second time. Her 
husband was all kindness and attention, took her immediately 
away again, and showered everything that wealth could buy 
upon her; and after a time children were born to her, and 
those new ties aroused her to her sense of duty as a mother. I 
never saw. her, for I had not courage to look upon her dear 
face, knowing that she was the wife of another; for I never 
ceased to love her, with an affection that amounted to idolatry. 
They told me that she had two children — two noble boys, one 
of them resembling her, the other his father — that she was a 


244 


AN INTERESTING STORY. 


tender, faithful mother, and veiy much beloved by every one 
who knew her. 

‘‘That was forty years ago, Star, and for thirty I have not 
heard one word concerning either her or her family; but I 
have lived my life out alone; I could never take any one to 
my broken heart ; and perhaps, if your belief is true, my child, 
and I can ever be made clearly to see it, I may find my lost 
love somewhere in the great future; but I do not need to tell 
you that my past has been one long season of longing and 
regret, of sadness and loneliness.’' 

His voice broke, his lips quivered painfully, and it seemed 
for a moment as if he must break down utterly. 

Star softly slipped one of her small hands into his, and the 
sympathetic little act comforted him greatly. His closed over 
it in a strong, yet tender clasp. 

“You pity the old man's weakness, don't you, dear?" he 
said, with a sad smile; “but it is not easy to open the secret 
chambers of one's heart when they have been closed for forty 
years. 

“When I first saw you," he continued, after a moment, 
“there was something in your face that touched me — a light 
in your eye, a sheen on your hair, that somehow smote a 
familiar chord in my heart. I watched you, although you were 
not aware of it, and felt sorry for you during that dreadful 
storm at sea; for your white face and great, startled eyes ap- 
pealed to me as nothing had done for many a year. But I 
would not yield to it. I had shut my heart to every one ; I had 
vowed that I would never love any one again, and I mistrusted 
every one who sought to win me to a better mood. But when 
that lurch of the boat threw you directly into my arms, and 
you clung to me in such a helpless way, I could not resist you, 
and some good angel prompted me to gather you close to me 
and make you rest upon me. When you told me your name, 
the shock nearly unmanned me — ‘Star Rosevelt Gladstone, ' you 


AN INTERESTING STORY, 


245 


said — and I knew as well as if I had been told, that you were 
in some way connected with my lost Star, and I watched over 
you all the night through, feeling almost as if some sweet spirit 
had been sent from her to me, to give me a little ray of comfort 
at the end of my long, loveless life. 

‘‘When, the next morning, you told me that your grand- 
mother had named you, and that her name was Stella Win- 
throp, I had not a doubt; I felt convinced that you must be 
the child of one of her sons. You thought it merely a strange 
coincidence, but I knew better, and all my boasted coldness 
and hardness melted away, and I began to love you then and 
there. When that dreadful explosion occurred, and you urged 
me to save myself, as ‘doubtless I had dear friends’ and ‘you 
had no one to love you ’ — when you refused to leave me, and 
took up your station by my side to die with me, as we both 
believed, I felt as if something of the spirit of my lost love was 
shining through you. Then your tenderness toward, and your 
care of me — your heroic self-denial and efforts to save my life 
while we were helplessly afloat on the mighty ocean — your 
sweet voice singing those hymns of faith and cheer, completed 
the conquest of my hardened nature. I can never make you 
understand how disappointed I was, on arriving in New York, 
to find you gone. I meant to tell you something of myself, 
and learn your own destination, so that I might see you once 
in awhile. 

“ But I never forgot you; and when I visited my nephew in 
the West, and met only coldness and neglect, simply because 
of my misfortunes, I could not help contrasting it with your 
kind attention to an entire stranger. 

“I left those heartless people and came to my niece, and 
met with the same reception, when before they had always 
fawned at my feet, flattered and humored me as if I had been 
something more than common clay. 

“I felt forsaken; no one loved me, no one wanted me; I 


246 


AN INTERESTING STORY, 


was a burden and incumbrance. But just then you appeared 
to me, and your heavenly kindness made my poor old heart 
glow again. Still, 1 was so embittered by finding my only 
brother s children so heartless and selfish, that I was not quite 
sure of you. It made me mistrust everybody, and I feared you 
might grow to be like them. But for that I should not have 
remained a day beneath Ellen Richards’ roof; I should have 
gone my own way again as soon as I became rested and re- 
cruited. Do you remember how you came to me the next 
morning after my arrival, and cheered me with your merry chat 
and your thoughtful little gift.'^ I said, ‘Suiely this child must 
be artless — she must be true but I resolved to stay awhile and 
test and study you, and you have been a blessing to me from 
the first. My dear, I began to love you for my lost Star’s sake ; 
now I love you for your own There, you have all my story 
now, and you must go to rest, for to-morrow will be your birth- 
day, and we must celebrate a little in honor of it,” Mr. Rosevelt 
concluded, patting her softly on the shoulder. 

Star lifted a flushed and tearful face to his. 

‘'Uncle Jacob !” she cried, tenderly; "it seems as if you are 
really that to me now ; and I am so glad that you have told me 
how you have loved my grandmother, and I shall try more 
than ever after this to make your life as bright as possible. I 
do not see how any one could ever have treated you unkindly 
or disrespectfully.” 

Uncle Jacob smiled fondly at her. 

"I know there is one at least who treats me kindly for my 
own sake, and who would share all her laurels with me. My 
child, I was very proud of you to-night.” 

"And I of you,” Star added, quickly. "I never saw you 
look so nice — so like an aristocratic old gentleman.” 

He laughed, such a bright, hearty laugh that she wondered 
to see him so pleased over her little compliment 


AN INl'ERE STING STORY. 


247 

^‘Now, good-night/' he said, rising; want you to be as 
fresh as possible to-morrow. 

He led her to the door of her room, and then, with a softly 
breathed ‘‘God bless you !’* sought his own. 

God bless you ! Those words rang in Star’s ears. Was he 
beginning to believe in her God, after all ? She hoped so — 
she prayed so. 

But she did not go directly to bed, as he bade her ; his story 
had strangely stirred her heart, and she could not rest until she 
had decided some questions that were troubling her. 

She opened a drawer of her dressing-case, and taking that 
worn portfolio to which we have before referred from it, un- 
locked it, and drew forth a sealed package. 

“Papa told me to wait until I was eighteen before I opened 
and read it,” she said, musingly; “but a few hours can make 
no difference, and I feel now as if I must know if he was 
her son, and why he never would tell me anything about his 
family.” 

With reverent fingers she broke the seals, a sob rising to her 
lips as she thought whose hand had fastened them there, and 
how tenderly it used to stroke her hair and call her “My bright 
little Star.” 

The package contained several papers, and it took her more 
than an hour to examine them ; but when she had read them 
through, there was a look of wonder in her large blue eyes and 
an almost blank expression on her white face. 


248 


}VI/AT NEXT? 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

WHAT NEXT? 

Star Gladstone's eighteenth birthday dawned as bright and 
charming as it was possible for a morning to be. At eight 
o’clock she and Mr. Rosevelt sat down to their breakfast, and a 
merry meal they made of it, for both appeared in the best of 
spirits, in spite of the sad and exciting events of the previous 
evening upon which they had conversed. 

About nine a handsome carriage drove to their humble abode, 
and the driver rang and asked for the '‘gentleman and lady who 
were going for a drive in the park. ’’ 

Star looked surprised as she peered from the window and saw 
a pair of sleek, coal-black horses, with their silver-mounted 
harnesses, and the shining, velvet-lined'coach. 

“Uncle Jacob, did you order that carriage to come for usf'* 
she asked. 

“Yes, my dear," he said, with an expression of satisfaction, 
as he, too, looked out and saw the team. “ It is not often that 
I ride, as you well know, but when I do, I like to go in style. 
One ride a year in 'ship-shape' would satisfy me, where a half- 
dozen in some broken-down hack wouldn’t give me a bit of 
pleasure. Now, put on your hat, and tuck some roses in your 
belt, as you did yesterday, for this is to be a gala day, and I 
want you as fine as possible. " 

Star laughed and tripped away to obey, coming back after a 
few moments with such a bright and happy face that Mr. Rose- 
velt thought she had never looked so lovely -before. 

All the morning they drove, four long, delightful hours— 


WHAT NEXT? 


249 


hours that were always a pleasant memory afterward to both of 
them ; and many who saw the nicely dressed old gentleman, 
with the fair, bright, golden-haired girl beside him in their 
elegant carriage, thought what a green old age must be his, 
with so much to make life pleasant. 

About one o’clock they turned toward the city once more, 
and Star said, with a sigh of pleasure : 

‘‘Uncle Jacob, I believe there never was such a perfect day 
before, and I’m sure I never enjoyed a birthday more. You 
were very kind to plan this pleasure for me. ” 

The old gentleman’s eyes twinkled. Her delight, her bright, 
animated face were such a joy to him. 

“If I had only been rich as I used to be, I should so like 
to have made you some nice present to-day — a watch, for in- 
stance,” he said. 

“You gave me something last night which I value far better 
— your confidence,” Star said, softly. “I should like a watch,” 
she added, after a moment, “and I mean to have one some 
time. When I have earned it, you shall go and select it for me, 
if you will. But what have you done with your own. Uncle 
Jacob.? You had a very nice one when I first met you, and I 
remember seeing it on you after the wreck.” 

“Watches and I have not had much in common during the 
last two years,” he answered, evasively; and she thought per- 
haps he had been obliged to sell it since he became poor. 

All at once the carriage stopped in a quiet street up town, 
which, Star noticed, was lined on both sides with elegant brown- 
stone dwellings. 

“What are we stopping here for.?” she asked. 

“A good woman whom I used to know lives here, and I 
thought, as we were in gala attire to-day, I would like to stop 
and make a call, and — inlrgduce my Star to her,” Mr. Rosevelt 
^aid, preparing to alight. 


250 


WHAT NEXT? 


He helped Star out, and together they went up the marble 
steps. 

Mr. Rosevelt rang the bell, and then took a card from one 
of his pockets, and, with an arch smile, said : 

‘‘It almost seems as if we were really fine people, doesn't it, 
dressed in our best, riding about in our carriage, and sending 
our cards in at a brown-stone house.?*" 

“Yes, indeed; and it would be such fun if we could keep 
it up for awhile," Star said, gayly. “But," with a regretful 
little sigh, “like Cinderella of old, I suppose we shall soon be 
aroused to the fact that our coach and horses are gone, and find 
the stern realities of life staring us in the face again. " 

Mr. Rosevelt laughed. 

“Would you like to be a fine lady, Star.?" he asked. 

“I don't know," she answered, thoughtfully. “I believe I 
should like to try it for a little while, just to see how it would 
seem." 

There was not time for any more conversation, for the door 
was at this moment opened by a neat-looking servant. 

She appeared to recognize Mr. Rosevelt, for she greeted him 
with a smile, and then her eyes wandered inquiringly to Star’s 
lovely face. 

She invited them to enter, and conducted them into a hand- 
some drawing-room on the right of the hall, when, taking Mr. 
Rosevelt's card, she retired, leaving them alone. 

“What a lovely room!" Star breathed, as her eyes roved 
about the apartment, over the beautiful pictures, the bright, 
rich carpet, the carved ebony furniture, upholstered in warm- 
hued satins, choice bric-a-brac, and all those fine things which 
add so much to a place like that. “Your friend must be a 
‘fine lady,' with plenty of money," she added. 

Mr. Rosevelt merely nodded his head in reply, while he 
watched the door with evident impatience. 

It was soon slowly opened, and a familiar face appeared in 


IV/fAT NEXTf 


251 

the aperture — a face all beaming with smiles of pleasure and 
good nature. 

“Mrs. Blunt!’' cried Star, in astonishment; and springing 
toward the woman, she grasped both her hands warmly. 

“Yes, Miss Star," the woman returned, half laughing, half 
crying; “I am Mrs. Blunt, or I’m much mistaken, as I some- 
times imagine I may be when I get to thinking about every- 
thing, and how strange it has all turned out. How well you’re 
looking, miss, and it does my old eyes a wonderful sight of 
good to see your bright face again." 

Star thought her language somewhat ambiguous ; but every- 
thing seemed rather ambiguous just then. 

“Do you live here?" she questioned. 

“Yes, I live here; or " 

“Have you been in New York long? and why haven’t we 
seen you before? and what are you laughing at?" 

The young girl’s astonishment seemed to increase, for the 
woman appeared strangely, and was shaking with suppressed 
laughter. 

“I’m laughing because I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been 
in New York a month, and haven’t been to see you because 
the last time I saw Mr. Rosevelt he told me he was going to 
bring you to see me soon; so I’ve been content to wait," Mrs. 
Blunt explained. 

Star wondered if the present occupant of that elegant place 
allowed her housekeeper to entertain her friends in the drawing- 
room ; if so, it was surely a new departure, and not exactly 
in accordance with Mrs. Richards’ ideas of the treatment of 
servants. 

“Take off your hat, dearie," Mrs. Blunt continued, “fori 
have a nice little lunch waiting for you." 

“A lunch?" repeated Star, in amazement, and with a puzzled 
look at Mr. Rosevelt, who was regarding her attentively. 

“Yes; I had orders to get up the nicest lunch I could for 


2S2 


WHAT NEXT? 


my old friends, and I’m much mistaken if I haven’t done it,” 
the woman replied, with an air of satisfaction. 

‘‘You must have a very kind mistress,” the fair girl said, as 
she drew off her gloves and removed her hat. 

“ I have, the best in the world,” the queer creature returned, 
with a chuckle. “But come, I’ll show you the way to the 
dining-room.” 

Mr. Rosevelt arose, and drawing Star’s hand within his arm, 
followed her to a room on the opposite side of, and farther 
down the hall. 

As she opened the door. Star saw a charming dining-room, 
furnished in costly woods of different colors, its floor inlaid in 
an intricate and lovely pattern. 

In the center stood a table, covered with a heavy white 
damask cloth, and spread with a glittering array of silver and 
cut glass, and where also a most tempting repast was awaiting 
them. 

Mr. Rosevelt led his wondering companion to one side of the 
table, and, looking down upon her with the fondest look in the 
world, said, in a voice which was not quite steady : 

“Star, my dear, my pure-hearted, faithful little friend, I here 
formally install you as mistress of your crwn table and of your 
own home. This is to be your seat henceforth — mine opposite ; 
and, my darling — for such you have become to me — I trust you 
will be as happy as an old man’s love, gratitude, and wealth 
can make you.” 

Star had grown suddenly pale while he spoke, and regarded 
him with a puzzled expression. 

“I do not understand,” she said, clasping both her small 
hands around his arm and leaning heavily upon him. 

“I will tell you,” he answered, tenderly. “When you met 
me on board that ill-fated steamer I was a very rich man. When 
it was wrecked, and I had discovered that you were the grand- 
child cf the only woman v/hom I ever loved, and also what a 


fVI/Ar NEXT? 


253 


kind, tender little heart you had, I formed a sudden resolution. 
I had always, as I told you last night, been flattered and cajoled 
by my relatives, who knew I was rich, and I resolved that I 
would test their sincerity. If they stood it, I would divide my 
fortune into three portions, one of which should be youis, the 
otheis theirs. If they did not, it should all be yours, you 
proved the true, noble character which I believed you to be. 
That was one reason why I was so keenly disappointed to find 
you gone when I went to bid you farewell on the steamer; but 
I meant to search for you all the same. And so I pretended to 
be the poor old man whom you remember coming to Ellen 
Richards’ that night. You know the result. No one was true 
to me or kind to me but my Star. Yet I had become so sus- 
picious of everybody, that I resolved to study even you thor- 
oughly before I committed myself; and so I concluded to wait 
until you had completed your education before telling you of 
my actual position in life. It was very hard, though, when you 
were in such trouble that last night in Yonkers, when you told 
me your secret about writing your book, and offered to share 
your little all with me ‘because I was not happy there/ and I 
was .sorely tempted to tell 3^ou all, surround you at once with 
everything to make life beautiful, and place you in a position 
far above the daughter of the woman who had treated you so 
shamefully. On second thought, however, I deemed it best to 
wait until your education should be completed, for then you 
would be more free to enjoy the good things of life.” 

“Then you have not been poor at all.?^” faltered Star, as he 
paused for a moment. 

“No; I have had abundance. I own this house, and have 
for years. I own a block on Broadway, and — well, little one, 
there is enough to enable you and me to do pretty much as 
we like for the remainder of our lives,” he answered, with a 
fond smile. 

“Then I cannot take care of you. I thought I was going 


254 


WHAT NEXT? 


to make you so comfortable, and that, with teaching and the in- 
come from my book, we could have such nice times together,’' 
Star said, wistfully, and hardly able, even yet, to comprehend 
the change in her circumstances. 

Mr. Rosevelt patted her softly on the shoulder, though a tear 
sprang to his eyes at her words. 

“No, dear,” he returned; “you cannot take care of me in 
that way. I am going to take care of you ; but you can still 
make me so comfortable. We can still have nice times together, 
and I shall be very proud to introduce the young authoress of 
^ Chatsworth’s Pride ' as my ward and future heiress. 

“Bless you, child !” he continued, his fine face glowing wdth 
happiness; “don’t you suppose it is going to be a comfort to 
me to try to make you happy and give you everything you 
wish, after all your constancy, patience, and self-denial for me.?^ 
Don’t you suppose I enjoyed fitting up this house for you after 
my tenant gave it up, some six months ago? And don’t you be- 
lieve, too, that Mrs. Blunt was glad to come and be housekeeper 
for us?” and he turned kindly to the woman, who had been 
standing in the background during these explanations. 

“You may be sure I’m much mistaken if I wasn’t,” she 
returned, eagerly, her eyes gleaming with delight, and her 
gratitude for the position shining through her homely but good- 
natured face. 

“And I am very glad, too. It is the nicest arrangement in 
the world,” Star said, heartily; “and just to think,’’ glancing 
around the elegant apartment with a sigh of supreme content, 
“that I am to be surrounded with all this beauty ! It is like a 
fairy tale, or a dream of enchantment.” 

“I told you I had the best mistress in the world,” Mrs. Blunt 
said, chuckling; “but we didn’t imagine anything like this. 
Miss Star, that Sunday when we were stoning raisins and stem- 
ming currants.” 


PV/LIT NEXT? 


255 

‘*No, indeed,” Star answered, laughing. “But you don’t 
mean to tell me that you consider me your mistress.” 

“I never’d ask for a better,” the woman said, earnestly; 
then, turning to Mr. Rosevelt, she resumed: 

“And now, sir, won’t you please eat your lunch and tell 
the rest of the story afterward, for everything will be spoiled 
waiting. ” 

“Yes, indeed — yes, indeed ; to be sure we will. There, Miss 
Gladstone, sit down by your tea-urn, and make me the best cup 
of tea that was ever brewed, while 1 serve you to some of that 
templing salad.” 

He forced her gently into her chair, and going around to the 
opposite side of the table, began to wait upon her in the most 
chivalrous manner. 

“Ah ! this is what I call comfort, dear,” he said, in a satisfied 
tone, after Mrs. Blunt had withdrawn to see that the straw- 
berries and cream were properly served; “this is what I have 
been dreaming about for a whole year; and now, after we have 
appeased our hunger — and, by the way, I believe I am half- 
famished, or else Mrs. Blunt’s efforts in the culinary line are 
wonderfully successful — we will go over the house, and see if 
everything suits you. What are you looking at the clock for.? 
Your school days are over, Miss Gladstone.” 

Star laughed somewhat nervously, and flushed. 

“I was looking to see how many hours would elapse before 
the clock would strike twelve, and wondering if it would dis- 
solve the spell that is on me.” 

“No fear of that. Starling. Ihe hours, days, and months, 
and years, I trust, will roll by and bring you only joy and 
pleasure, with no rude awaking. You are to have everything 
that you want — and mind, by that I do not mean just what you 
need, and have you stop to count the cost on those pretty 
fingers of yours, as I have seen you do so often. You shall 
have music and painting to your heart’s content. You shall 


256 


WHAT NEXT? 


have a pair of ponies and a phaeton of the most approved 
style ; and, in fact, little girl, it will take you a good while to 
find the bottom of my purse. But how do you like your tea- 
service? I chose it myself, and had it marked expressly for 
you. 

“It is perfectly lovely,” Star replied, as her eyes roved ad- 
miringly over the beautiful and costly equipage, upon each 
piece of which there gleamed a star in delicate frost-work. 

“I’m glad you like it. And now, my dear, suppose you 
open that small box by your plate.” 

Star gave him a wondering look — indeed, all her looks had 
been wondering ones during the last hour — and opened a little 
white box, which had until now lain unnoticed beside her 
plate. 

She found inside a morocco case, and springing back the lid 
of this, an elegant little watch and chatelaine were exposed to 
her delighted eyes. 

“Uncle Jacob I I cannot tell whether I am awake or dream- 
ing,” she cried, a rosy flush spreading over her whole face. “It 
is the dearest little watch in the world. And is this star on the 
case made of diamonds?” 

“ Yes ; diamonds are none too good for my star.” 

“ And you had this waiting for me, even when we were talk- 
ing about my having a watch while we were driving?” 

“Yes; I was only sounding you a little to see if you would 
like a watch best or something else. Now, if you are through, 
put it in your belt and come with me,” he said, rising from 
the table. 

She followed his example, and together they passed from the 
beautiful dining-room out into the hall, and thence to another 
room on the front of the house, which was fitted up as half 
library, half mu sic- room. 

In it there stood a new Steinway piano, with a richly carved 
case and pearl keys. The handsome bookcases, each sur- 


WHAT NEXT? 


257 


mounted by books of popular authors, were filled with choice 
volumes, while the other furniture, upholstered in olive and 
crimson, was most luxurious. 

From here they went up stairs, and over the drawing-room 
found a most charming suite of rooms, furnished throughout 
in blue and white. 

The dainty bed, in its pretty chamber, was draped with an- 
tique lace, over blue silken curtains, with a spread to match ; 
draperies of the same kind hung at the windows, and all the 
toilet articles were of costly china, most beautifully decorated. 
The boudoir, or- sitting-room, was fitted up with every con- 
venience, and all those pretty trifles which young girls so much 
admire, carpeted with wreaths of forget-me-nots and golden- 
hearted daisies. The furniture was covered with richest brocade 
of the same design, while the full-length mirror, in its massive 
blue and gold frame, revealed, as Star went up to it, a beautiful ' 
maiden, with shining hair, gleaming eyes, smiling coral lips, 
and glowing cheeks — a fitting tenant for this lovely bower. 

“Allow me to introduce you to the heiress of Jacob Rose- 
velt, the millionaire,’' said the old gentleman, taking her hand 
and bowing before the fair apparition in the glass. “ How do 
you like her.?” 

“I can’t tell just yet, she is such a new creature; but,” 
with a roguish look up into his eyes, “I’m very fond of the 
millionaire.” 

“Thank you, Miss Gladstone ; your favor is most highly ap- 
preciated,” he returned, laughing. “But come, you must see 
my bachelor den and he led her across the hall to a room 
over the dining-room, and here she found every comfort, if 
something less of elegance. 

Opposite her sitting room there was a great chamber, fur- 
nished in crimson and gold, while up another flight were the 
servants’ rooms. Mrs. Blunt’s room was on the lower floor, 


258 


STARTS DELIGHT, 


where she could conveniently overlook her assistants at all 
hours. 

‘‘It is like a story,” Star said, when they had been the 
rounds and came back to the library; “and now what are we 
to do next. Uncle Jacob?” 

Her plans had all been for work, and now that she found 
there was* to be no more toil or care for her — nothing but 
pleasure and what her own sweet will dictated, she hardly knew 
where or how to take up the thread of her life again ; therefore 
the query : 

“What are we to do next. Uncle Jacob?” 


CHAPTER XXV. 
star’s delight. 

“What are we going to do next?” Mr. Rosevelt repeated. 
“Why, enjoy it all, to be sure. I have waited a good while for 
this good time, and now I am going to make the most of it. 
First, Miss Gladstone must attend to that very important item, 
Miss Gladstone’s wardrobe, which must be suitable for her 
position ; and, Star, I shall be quite particular upon that point ; 
let it be both rich and elegant. Then, as the hot weather 
comes on, there will be a trip to Newport and the White 
Mountains, or some other place equally pleasant, and after 
that — well, something else, I suppose,” he concluded, with a 
smile. 

Star heaved a sigh of delight. 

It was nice, after all, to be surrounded by all this beauty and 
elegance, and to have everything heart could wish. 

She had applied for a position as a teacher, and had hoped 


STARTS DELIGHT, 


259 


also to do S9metlaing toward writing another book during the 
coming year; but now, of course, she could not teach, and 
there was no actual need that she should use her pen, although 
the enticing finger of fame seemed beckoning to her, urging 
her to try for even greater literary honors. 

Her wardrobe ! 

Of what should it consist, to be suitable for her position as 
4he heiress of a millionaire 

It was rather a difficult question to decide, when, during the 
last two years, her means had been too limited to allow of her 
gratifying her naturally exquisite taste, and all she had possessed 
in the way of dresses had been scarce half a dozen, and those 
of the commonest material. 

The next fortnight was a busy one with dressmakers, mil- 
liners, and seamstresses ; for Mr. Rosevelt said he wished to go 
to Newport by the middle or last of July, if possible. 

Mrs. Blunt was jubilant over the change in ‘^Miss Star’s 
fortunes.'" 

“Just to think of it!" she would exclaim every little while. 

Who would have dreamed of it two years ago, when you were 
at Madam Richards’, and she trying to make a drudge of you .? 
Don’t I wish I might be on hand when you and Miss Josephine 
meet, if you ever do, and she hears that Mr. Rosevelt was only 
playing poverty all the time, just to try his proud relations! I 
tell you there’ll be music by the full band." 

The young girl flushed. • 

Josephine had, indeed, been very unkind to her, and it had 
been hard not to resent the theft of her beautiful little cameo * 
but she was not one to treasure ill-will. Her little heart was 
full of “Christian charity," and full of gratitude for the bless- 
ings which were surrounding her, and she was ready to forgive 
all past injuries. 

“I should at least try to remember," she returned, quietly, 
in reply to the housekeeper’s somewhat vindictive speech, “that 


26 o 


STARTS DELIGHT, 


/wish to be a lady in the truest sense of the term, and treat 
her accordingly. But,'’ she continued, wishing to change the 
subject, “you have never told me yet how you happened to 
come to keep house for us. I think it was one of the nicest 
arrangements that was ever made." 

“Thank you, Miss Star," the woman answered, with a beam- 
ing face; “and you'd better believe it was a chance that I 
jumped at. I suppose I should have been slaving it for that 
ungrateful set now if I hadn't come over to New York one day 
about three months ago, and met Mr. Rosevelt on Broadway, 
all by chance. He seemed glad to see me, and asked how I 
was getting on ; and I was that discouraged with the way things 
were being managed, the cross words, complaints, and every- 
thing, that I told him I was sick and tired of it all, and meant 
to find another place just as scon as ever I could, though good- 
ness knows I hadn't an idea where that would be. Upon that 
he looked thoughtful, and, after a moment, said ‘ he didn't 
believe in hiring people away from their employers, but if I 
really meant to go away, he thought he knew of some one who 
would like just such a person for a housekeeper.' I tell you I 
jumped at the chance, for ever since that young lord took him- 
self olf so quick, the madam has been so irritable that nothing 
w'ould please her; and Mr. Rosevelt said when I had worked 
out my notice to come to him, and I'd find him any day at 
home at ten o'clock. I suppose he set that hour because he 
didn’t want you to know what was going on. I gave my notice 
the next day, worked out my two weeks, and came over to New 
York lighter of heart than I’d been for years. 

“When Mr. Rosevelt told me about what he’d been doing, 
and what he was going to do, and said he wanted me for his 
own housekeeper, my eyes stuck out so that I thought they’d 
never feel natural again ; but if ever an old woman was happy, 
I was, to think I was going to serve you ; and here I've been 
ever since, helping him fix up for you. 


STAR'S DELIGHT, 


261 


It's like a beautiful story, Miss Star," continued Mrs. Blunt, 
waxing sentimental, “ to see you here among all these elegant 
things, for which you were just made, or I’m much mistaken; 
and when I see you coming out in all of these lovely clothes, 
nobody’ll be prouder than 1." 

“You are very good, Mrs. Blunt, to be so interested for 
me," Star said, with a smile; “and if what you want is to see 
me ‘come out in these fine things,' you will have your wish, 
for we shall have to take you to Newport with us, as I must 
have some one to attend me, and I cannot consent to take a 
stranger. " 

“That will be almost as good as to come out myself," the 
woman said, with a chuckle of delight. 

Star’s wardrobe and pretty things were all ready at last, and 
Mr. Rosevelt, who had taken a strange interest in it, for a 
bachelor, was perfectly satisfied. 

He had made her elegant presents in the way of jewelry and 
laces, until she felt almost overwhelmed. 

“Diamonds!" she had exclaimed, her face flushing all over 
with delight, when, the day before they were to leave, he came 
into her sitting-room and laid a case in her lap, telling her to 
open it. He had already purchased her several other sets, but 
this was the crowning gift of all. 

She had thought when he had given her some beautiful point- 
laces, that if she only had some diamonds to go with them she 
should like it; they were the two things for which she had an 
especial passion — rich laces and those pellucid stones, like 
drops of dew which send back the light in gorgeous tints. She 
would have been content with just a pair of ear-pendants and a 
solitaire ring — she was content, indeed, without them, but she 
thought how nicely they would go with her laces ; but there, 
dazzling her eyes upon their velvet bed, were ear-pendants, a 
cross attached to a beautiful chain, a solitaire ring, and a star 
for her hair. 


262 


STARTS DELIGHT, 


“Oh, Uncle Jacob,’' she faltered, “I am afraid you are 
spending too much money for me." 

“Don’t you like them?’’ he questioned, although her glow- 
ing face should have told him all he wished to know. 

“Like them? They are perfectly lovely; and I do particu- 
larly love diamonds.’’ 

“Then don’t trouble your pretty head about the money. 
You know I have been denied all my life the pleasure of spend- 
ing it for either wife or child, and now that I have found some 
one who appreciates and is w'orthy of it, let me get all the 
comfort I can in this way. You forget,’’ he continued, with a 
smile, “that there are two years’ income to be disposed of in 
some way, and I am only making up lost time. I like to go 
about the world, and I like to go in style, as I told you once 
before, and so my heiress must help me keep up appearances.*’ 

“Are you sure you are doing just right, Uncle Jacob, in 
giving me all your money?’’ Star asked, hesitatingly, after a few 
minutes of thoughtful silence, while she watched the sunlight 
play among her new treasures. 

“To whom should I give it, I should like to know?" he 
questioned, bluntly. 

“But I have no legal claim upon you, and you have ‘rela- 
tives. I’m afraid it will make trouble ’’ 

“No, it won’t; I’ve taken care of that, I can assure you,’’ 
he interrupted. “My will is made, signed, and sealed, and in 
the hands of one of the best lawyers in the city. You are to 
have the whole of my fortune, excepting what the law demands 
for blood. I’ve given a dollar to each of them, just to clear 
myself and keep them from breaking my will ; and they’ll never 
get another red cent,’’ he concluded, with more asperity than 
she had ever seen him betray before. 

“I’m afraid you are piling a mountain upon my small 
shoulders,’’ Star said, with a little laugh. 

“ It is a mountain which I shall take care won’t crush you; 


STARTS DELIGHT. 


263 


and, besides, I hope to help you bear it for a good many years 
to come, if my health keeps on improving as it has done during 
the last few months ; and then, I reckon, it will not be very 
difficult to find some one else who would be willing to take a 
share of the burden,'' Mr. Rosevelt concluded, slyly. 

Star flushed, and then her face grew sad. 

She knew that he meant she would find suitors for her hand; 
but she could not forget her first love, and she knew that ^he 
should never meet another who would win the place in her 
heart which she had given to Archibald Sherbrooke, unworthy 
as she believed him to be of it. 

That evening Miss Meredith and her brother called. 

‘‘How fortunate that you came to-night," Star said to the 
young lady during their conversation. “You would have missed 
us if you had waited longer, for to-morrow we go to Newport 
for a few weeks. " 

“Do you.? That is delightful, for we have our rooms en- 
gaged there also for next week, and intend to remain a month," 
Miss Meredith returned, with evident pleasure, while Mr Ralph 
Meredith, who was conversing with Mr. Rosevelt, but with one 
ear open toward the young ladies, felt a sudden heart-throb at 
the intelligence. 

“Newport is very gay this summer, I am told," Miss Mere- 
dith continued. “ ‘Everybody,' so to speak, is there, and it is 
cne of the most charming places in the world to visit. Have 
you ever been there, Miss Gladstone.?" 

“No," Star answered. “I have been so busy with my 
studies ever since I came to this country, that I have not been 
anywhere." 

“Since you came to this country !" Grace Meredith repeated. 
“Are you not an American?" 

“No; I am an English girl, and it will be two years in 
November since I left merrie England." 

“Are you some lady of high degree, come here to get your 


264 


STAR'S DELIGHT. 


education? I am almost inclined to think so/' laughed her 
friend, bending an admiring glance upon Star’s beautiful face. 

‘‘No, indeed. Don’t go to weaving any romances about 
me,” she answered, flushing slightly, “for I am only plain Star 
Gladstone. ” 

“But ‘plain Star Gladstone’ belongs to a very good family, 
nevertheless,” interrupted Mr. Rosevelt, who had overheard the 
latter part of their conversation, and would not allow Star to 
depreciate herself; whereupon Miss Meredith did feel at liberty 
to “romance” a little on her own account. 

Star was asked for some music, and delighted her listeners 
with her exquisite playing. Miss Meredith and her brother 
sang a charming duet, and after an hour spent in the most 
social manner, they took their departure, having formed numer- 
ous plans to be carried into execution when they should meet a 
week later at Newport. 

“Miss Gladstone is the loveliest girl I have ever met, and 
you wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise with her, Grace,” 
Ralph Meredith said, in a grieved tone, after they left the 
house. 

“Are you ‘ star ’-struck so soon, brother mine? You’ll have 
opportunities enough to ‘get your words in’ widthways during 
the next few weeks, and you can comfort yourself for your dis- 
appointment to-night with the thought that I was paving the 
way to glory for you,” laughed his sister. 

“Were you not surprised to learn that she is English?” she 
asked, thoughtfully. 

“Yes, rather; for I have been told that English girls are not 
very pretty; but she is wonderfully beautiful.” 

“What will you wager that she does not turn out to be some 
lady of high degree?” 

“Pshaw! Grace, you are always imagining some unlikely 
story or other. You should not read so many novels. Don’t 
put her entirely beyond our reach, if you please. It is quite 


*^WIIAT DOES THIS MEAN?^^ 


265 

enough for the present to know that she is Mr. Rosevelts 
heiress and the author of that charming little book, without 
being some princess in disguise/' returned the young man, 
somewhat impatiently. 

'‘I think I shall like Miss Meredith,'’ Star said, musingly, to 
Mr. Rosevelt, when their visitors were gone. 

‘'She appears to be a very agreeable young lady. I should 
like you to form some pleasant friendship," the old gentleman 
returned ; then, with a keen glance, he asked : “ How are you 
pleased with her brother.?" 

“ He is quite entertaining." 

“Very fine-looking young man ; don't you think so.?’' 

“Is he.? — yes — rather," was the absent reply; for speaking 
of England had sent Star's thoughts across the ocean again, 
where she saw in imagination a noble, patrician face, with dark, 
fathomless eyes, and curling chestnut hair; for Archibald Sher- 
brooke — she could never think of him in any other character — 
was her ideal of all that was manly and grand. 


CHAPTER XXVL 
“what does this mean?" 

Newport was teeming with all that was gay, beautiful, and 
attractive during this particular season of which we write. 

Never had so much wealth and luxury been represented 
there, or so many elegant equipages seen driving through the 
streets or along the smooth, sweeping beach. 

Not the least attractive among these equipages was the light 
and airy, though costly phaeton of “ Mr. Rosevelt’s ward," wdth 
its embroidered lap-robes, its luxurious velvet-cushioned seats, 


266 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEANr^ 


its plump, sleek, and sprited gray ponies in their gold-mounted 
harnesses. 

Star had created quite a sensation when she arrived at the 
hotel where they had taken rooms ; and the tall, distinguished 
old gentleman, with such silvery hair and beard, and who ap- 
peared so devoted to her, was scarcely less a target for all eyes. 
But when it began to be whispered that Miss Gladstone was 
not only the heiress of Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire, but 
also the authoress of that bright little book which for a year 
had created such a sensation in New York circles, the excite- 
ment increased, and everybody was on the qui vive to obtain an 
introduction. 

When, on the second evening after her arrival, she came into 
the great parlors of the hotel — for there was to be a grand hop 
or assembly there that night — leaning on Mr. Rosevelt’s arm, 
and looking “so divinely fair’' in her shimmering robe of 
cream-colored silk and mist-like tulle, garnished with velvet- 
leaved, golden- hearted pansies, her shining hair coiled like a 
crown about her small head, with a little cluster of pansies 
nestling lovingly among its glossy plaits, every eye was attracted 
by her loveliness, and everybody — of the masculine gender, at 
least — was ready to “rave over” her, “swear by” her, and 
“fight for” her if need be. 

It is needless to say that she was not allowed to become a 
wall-flower, and it was amusing to observe the maneuvers of 
the battalion of gallant young knights who swarmed about her, 
like bees around their queen, eager to secure an introduction. 

And now the excitement for Star began. 

She was whisked away to the ball-room, and the evening 
sped like a vision of delight. 

She had been taught to dance at home, nothwithstanding the 
fact that her father was a clergyman, for in all English homes 
dancing is considered a necessary accomplishment, because it 
imparts ease and grace to the manners of the young. 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEAJVr^ 


267 


Mr. Rosevelt followed, for he enjoyed looking upon the 
merry dancers, and taking up his station near a window, and 
by a stand of flowers where he was partially shielded from ob- 
servation, he watched his pet with a fond smile upon his lips, 
proud of her beauty, proud of her intelligence and of the ad- 
miration she was attracting. 

While standing here, a group of half a dozen ladies and 
gentlemen gathered near him, and he overheard a conversation 
which amused him, and caused at the same time something of 
a feeling of triumph to pervade his heart. 

‘‘Have you seen the new arrivals?’' asked a gentleman of 
one of his companions. 

“ No ; what new arrivals do you refer to ? There are many 
every day.” 

“An old codger from New York — rich as a king, they say — 
and his ward, who bids fair to be the beauty of the season.” 

“/«deed !” returned the lady, assuming a piqued tone. 
“ How dare you make such an assertion, and in the presence 
of three acknowledged beauties, too ?” 

“I beg pardon if I have offended,” the gentleman roguishly 
replied; “but — I have had Washingtonian instructions regard- 
ing the principle of truth, ” 

The young lady tapped him playfully upon the arm with her 
fan, while she remarked, significantly : 

“ How glad I am that you have told me of it!” whereupon 
the whole party joined in a laugh at the “truthful” gentle- 
man’s expense. 

“But about this fair charmer,” the lady pursued ; “who is 
she, and what is the name of this ‘old codger’ who is ‘rich as 
a king?’ ” 

“The lady’s name is Miss Gladstone, and she is not only 
beautiful, charming, and rich, but is also the author of ‘Chats- 
worth's Pride/ which you have doubtless read.” 

“ Oh I a blue-stocking!” cried the gay girl, with well-affected 


268 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEANr* 


horror; and just here another voice chimed in — a voice which 
made Mr. osevelt start and listen more intently ; 

‘‘Miss Gladstone! How strange I never heard the authors 
name before! There was only a simple star upon the title- 
page where the author’s name should have been. Mamma!” 
in a startled tone, as if a strange idea had suddenly come into 
the speaker’s mind, “it cannot possibly be Stella Gladstone, 
can it?” 

“Certainly not,” returned Mrs. Richards — for both she and 
Josephine were among the group referred to, having come from 
a neighboring hotel to attend the hop. “Such a thing cannot 
be possible ; she could not write a book. ” 

The woman spoke contemptuously, and yet the utterance of 
that name produced an uneasy sensation in her mind. 

“What is the gentleman’s name? Whose ward did you say 
she is?” she asked, a moment later, thinking that would throw 
some light on the subject. 

“ I declare I have forgotten,” the gentleman returned ; “ it’s 
a high-sounding name, though, and he is an aristocratic-looking 
old fellow, too. By the way. Miss Richards,” he continued, 
turning to the young lady, “I am willing to wager a handsome 
fan against a new pair of gloves that Miss Gladstone’s phaeton 
and pair of ponies will be the envy of every lady in Newport, 
for a more trappy turn-out I’ve never seen in my life.” 

“Then she drives her own ponies, does she? Well, I must 
say you have aroused my curiosity to the highest notch, and I’d 
like to see this paragon of perfection, Mr. Pendleton,” Jose- 
phine said, a feeling of jealousy springing up in her heart at 
hearing another’s praises sounded so profusely. 

“You can be gratified, for there she stands now — that slight, 
graceful girl in the cream-colored silk trimmed with pansies,” 
replied Mr. Pendleton, drawing her attention to the spot where 
Star stood surrounded by an admiring crowd. 


*^m/AT DOES THIS MEAN?^^ 269 

Her back was turned toward them, and they could not judge 
of her beauty; but they saw a tall, willowy figure in trailing 
robes of exceeding richness, a stately head crowned with golden 
hair, and there was a familiar something about the fair stranger 
which made both mother and daughter look more closely, while 
their eyes were filled with anxious foreboding. 

‘‘She is elegantly dressed, I must confess,'' Josephine said, 
putting up her glass to get a better view of the ‘‘belle of the 
evening;" “and, mamma," she added, in a lower tone, “is it 
my imagination, or is there something really familiar in that 
figure? Can it be Stella?''' 

‘‘Impossible! What could have put such a foolish notion 
into your head ? Where under heavens could she get money 
enough to flourish in such style?" Mrs. Richards retorted, im- 
patiently. 

“But if she is really the author of the book — it has been 
very popular, you know " 

“ Nonsense I" interrupted her mother. “I tell you such a 
thing could not be possible." 

Nevertheless, Mrs. Richards was closely watching the object 
of their conversation, and her heart was beating with a painful 
throb, for the young girl did strangely resemble that poor 
orphan whom she had so despised and ill-treated, and who had 
fled from her tyranny. 

But her uneasiness increased, for just now she observed a 
tall, white-haired gentleman moving toward the girl, and upon 
reaching her side, he bent down and spoke a few words in 
her ear. 

His back also was toward them, but the matron's face was 
dark with trouble ; she grew white with the sudden fear which 
possessed her, and she moved forward to get a better view of 
the couple. 

At that instant Star turned and lifted her bright face to reply 
to Mr. Rosevelt, who had left his position by the stand of 


270 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEAN 


flowers when she ceased dancing and approached her, her eyes 
shining, her cheeks glowing, and her coral lips wreathed with 
bright smiles, and both Josephine and Mrs. Richards recognized 
her instantly. 

A low cry of surprise and dismay broke from Josephine 
Richards’ lips. 

‘Mt is — it surely is Stella Gladstone,” she said; ‘‘and that 
man talking to her is certainly Uncle Jacob Rosevelt ! What 
can it all mean ?” 

“Rosevelt! Yes, that is the name,” said Mr. Pendleton, 
who had caught it, and who had first called their attention to 
Star. “ ‘Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire,’ I heard him called 
this afternoon, but I forget names so easily.” 

“Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire I” repeated Mrs. Richards, 
with white lips and astonished eyes, while a tumult of emotions 
raged within her heart. 

“Yes; he must be very rich, for they have every appearance 
of it, and Miss Gladstone’s turn-out, which was sent on before 
them, is a marvel of luxury and elegance. But — do you know 
them.?” Mr. Pendleton asked, regarding her curiously. 

Mrs. Richards’ thoughts worked very rapidly. 

If this was really Jacob Rosevelt, and she could not doubt 
the evidence of her own eyes, he must by some stroke of luck 
have recovered a portion, if not the whole, of his fortune since 
leaving her house; and in this case he became at once an 
entirely different person from the feeble, poverty-stricken in- 
dividual who had come to her a little more than a year ago to 
sue for food and shelter. 

He had been a person of no account then — one to be ignored 
and neglected, for there was nothing to be gained by treating 
him otherwise. 

But “Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire,” if such he had be- 
come again, must be propitiated, flattered, and cajoled. 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEAN 


271 


Therefore she had a new role to play, and she would begin 
at once by claiming him as a relative before these friends 
of hers. 

‘‘It would be very strange if I did not know him, for he is 
my father's^ brother,'' she said, calling to her lips her blandest 
smiles; “but I am sure I had no idea that he was here in 
Newport. Come, Josephine, we must go and speak to him 
k and she drew the astonished girl away before they could ques- 
tion them any further, and she wished to collect her own scat- 
tered senses a little before encountering those two whom she 
had so deeply injured. 

“What can it mean, mamma?" Josephine repeated, with a 
blank look, for she had no longer any doubt about the identity 
of the strangers. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out," she answered, 
resolutely. 

“Then you are convinced that it is Stella?" 

“Yes, it is that girl fast enough; there can be no mistake 
about it ; and what a sensation she is making ! She seems to 
checkmate us at every move." 

“Where can they have been hiding all this time?" Josephine 
asked. 

“How do you suppose I know ?" retorted her mother, sharply. 
“I am more interested to know where all the money comes 
from to enable them to cut such a swell. Why, the dress she 
has on must have cost a cool three hundred, to say nothing 
about her other expensive fixings; and then you heard what 
Pendleton said about her carriage and ponies." 

“Well, he said she was the author of ‘ Chatsworth’s Pride,' 
and if that is so, it must havxj brought her a good deal.-" 

“Pooh ! you don't suppose one book is going to enable her 
to live and dress like a young empress, do you?" returned Mrs, 


272 


^^WHAT DOES THIS MEAN 


Richards, scornfully. ‘‘No; Uncle Jacob has recovered his 
fortune, or else '' 

“ Or else what.?” 

“He has played it upon us.” 

“Played what upon us.?” 

“Why, poverty, you goose!” 

“ Mamma ! that would be too dreadful. I never thought of 
such a thing,” Josephine said, feeling almost faint. 

“ Nor I, until this moment ; but I can account for their ap- 
pearance here to-night in no other way. If he has done this 
thing, and that girl gets all his money, it will be a bitter pill to 
swallow, I can tell you. ” 

“ But she could inherit nothing ; she is no blood relation.” 

“But he could make a will.” 

“And we could break it.” 

“Not a bit of it; your Uncle Jacob is keen enough to look 
out for that, I assuie you. But come this way ; they are passing 
out into the hall, and I am going to sift this matter at once.” 

She drew her daughter from the upper door of the parlor, 
just as Star and Mr. Rosevelt passed out at the lower one, 
intending to waylay them and demand an explanation of their 
presence. 

They turned and came toward those waiting women, walking 
slowly and chatting pleasantly, and wholly unconscious of the 
exciting interview in store for them. 


DEFEATED, 


273 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

DEFEATED. 

When they were within a few feet of the upper door, Mrs. 
Richards stepped toward them and stood directly in their path. 

The hall was nearly empty, almost everybody being in the 
parlors or the dancing-hall, so there was no one by just at that 
moment to witness what transpired. 

What does this mean.^^” Mrs. Richards demanded, in a low 
but authoritative tone. ** Stella Gladstone, hew is it that I find 
you here? Uncle Jacob, where have you been all this time, 
and what strange freak of fortune brings you here in this un- 
accountable fashion V 

Mr. Rosevelt started slightly on beholding his niece standing 
in that excited attitude directly in his path; while Star grew 
pale at first, for she had always stood somewhat in fear of the 
arrogant woman while she was an inmate of her house. But 
remembering that everthing was entirely different now, she 
quickly recovered herself 

But for all that, she clung a little more closely to Mr. Rose- 
velt s arm, as if she was glad that he was there, though in no 
other way did she betray how disagreeable this encounter was 
to her, or appear as if she had ever met them before. 

^‘Tell me what this means Mrs. Richards repeated, look- 
ing from one to the other, noting Sar’s delicate beauty with a 
pang of bitter jealousy, her self-possession and grace ; Mr. Rose- 
velt s improved appearance, his rich apparel, and more than all, 
the air of pride and fondness which pervaded every lopk and 
attention which he bestowed upon his companion. 


274 


DEFEATED, 


‘‘Well, niece Ellen,” Mr. Rosevelt returned, in a quiet tone, 
while he met her eye with a cold, steady glance that made her 
very uncomfortable, “it appears that you are considerably ex- 
cited over this unexpected meeting. Suppose we retire to 
yonder anteroom, where we can converse unobserved.” 

He turned and led the way, with Star still upon his arm, to 
a small room upon the opposite side of the hall ; they entered, 
and he shut the door, for he did not care that any one should 
overhear what passed between them, nor did he intend that 
Ellen Richards should do or say anything which should make 
them objects of remark. 

“ Now, Ellen, what is it that I am to account to you for.?” he 
asked, in the same quiet tone which he had before used. 

She colored angrily, but she was determined to get at the 
bottom of the matter. 

“I have heard strange rumors to-night,” she remarked. “I 
am told that Stella has become an authoress — that she is very 
popular, as well as her book, and I want to know what it 
means. A year ago you were both dependents upon my bounty; 
now 1 find you sailing about, like a couple of meteors, among 
the other shining lights of society. I want an explanation of 
the cause of this change.” 

“Certainly, Ellen; since you desire it, I will explain with 
pleasure. We left your house last October, as you doubtless 
will remember, and took up our abode in New York city. Star 
entered the Normal College at once, and by assiduous applica- 
tion to her studies, succeeded in completing the course, and 
graduated in June, since when we have been trying to get all 
the enjoyment out of life that we could. Y@u have heard 
rightly, Ellen ; she did write that popular little book, ‘ Chats- 
worth's Pride,' and it is a source of pride to me that I have the 
honor of introducing in society its popular author as my ward 
.and heiress ” 

“Your heiress r Mrs. Richards cri^d, growling pale. 


DEFEA TED. 


275 


“Yes; Miss Gladstone is named as such in my will, which 
is now in the hands of my lawyer,'' the old gentleman replied, 
quietly. 

His niece looked from one to the other in blank dismay. 
She had feared she should hear something of the kind, but it 
was none the less a shock to her when it came. 

“Your heiress — heiress to what?'’ she demanded, sharply. 

“To the whole of my fortune, madam.'' 

“Your fortune !" she sneered, but her voice was hoarse from 
passion and baffled hopes. “A year ago it was — beggary!” 

Mr. Rosevelt smiled serenely. 

Apparently, yes," he answered. “But I was then, what I 
am now — a millionaire. The mistake of your life-time was 
made then, Ellen ; for if you had cordially received the feeble 
old man who came to your house in such a forlorn condition; 
if you had given him kindness and sympathy, such as you were 
wont to do when he was rich and prosperous ; if you had shown 
him something of love and tenderness, instead of coldness and 
contempt, making him feel that he was a burden and an in- 
truder, you would have had the bulk of my fortune, for your 
brother had already forfeited his share. I thought that my final 
return to this country would give me a good opportunity to test 
your and Henry's sincerity, and I resolved to do so. I went to 
him as a poor man ; I was received coldly, and made as uncom- 
fortable as it was possible for any one to be made. Then I said 
to myself, * Ellen's womanly heart will prompt her to be kind 
to me, if not for my own sake, for her father's,' and so I came 
to you also in the guise of poverty. " 

“ It was mean — it was dishonorable to take advantage of me 
in that way," Mrs. Richards said, with white, quivering lips. 

“Not at all. I wanted to know you as you were, not what 
you pretended to be. I do not need to tell you the result of 
my plan ; we all know it but too well. No one gave me a 
word of sympathy or kindness save this dear girl" — he laid his 


276 


DEFEA TED. 


hand tenderly on Star's shoulder — ‘‘who did her utmost to 
make the old man forget as far as was possible his bitter dis- 
appointment, and who had already earned his love and gratitude 
by saving his life, almost at the sacrifice of her own, during 
that terrible voyage across the Atlantic. She has been like a 
sunbeam to me from the first ; and when I saw how unkind you 
all were to her also — how you were betraying your trust and 
breaking your promise to her dying father — I resolved that she 
should become my especial care for the future. 

“I do not need to recall to your memory the last night that 
we spent in your house in Yonkers. It must be as fresh to 
you as it is to me. You taunted us both with our poverty 
and dependence. You drove her to desperation by your unjust 
accusations and your heartless language. She could not endure 
that kind of a life any longer, and she knew that I also was 
anything but happy; so she came to me, told me the secret of 
her success as an author, and of the Income which her book 
bade fair to bring her, and begged of me to go with her to 
share her substance, asking in return only the comfort of con- 
genial companionship and the protection which my presence 
would give her. I was sorely tempted, as I have told her, to 
confess the part I had been playing, and proclaim her my 
heiress on the spot. But I thought, considering all things, it 
would be better to wait until she was through with school, 
while I wanted to study her a little more closely before com- 
mitting my all to her. She has stood the test most nobly. She 
has been the light of our home. She has labored early and 
late to minister to my comfort and happiness, and now she is 
going to reap her reward. Everything that I can do for her to 
make her life bright, I shall do while I live, and when I am 
gone, she will have the fortune which, under different circum- 
stances, would have been mostly yours." 

Mrs. Richards was pallid with anger, mortification, and bitter 
disappointment when Mr. Rosevelt concluded. 


DEFEATED. 


277 


It was a terrible blow to her to lose this great fortune, and 
remorse for her heartless treatment of her uncle was gnawing 
keenly at her heart-strings. 

Mr. Richards had met with heavy losses in his business of 
late, and it was only by straining every nerve, calculating, and 
contriving, that she and Josephine had been able to come to 
Newport at all that season, and it was simply maddening to 
think that Star, whom she had so disliked from the first, should 
have won, by little acts of kindness, what she would have spared 
no pains to secure had she once suspected the truth. 

‘‘Well, miss, you have played your cards very cleverly, haven't 
you?" she finally found breath to ejaculate, and turning with 
blazing eyes upon the fair girl who, all unwittingly, had usurped 
her place in her uncle s affection and will. 

Mr. Rosevelt s face grew stern. 

“She certainly has, Ellen," he said, before Star could speak, 
even had she wished to do so, “especially as she could not, by 
any means, have known that there was anything worth winning 
by her acts of devotion and self-denial. And now let me tell 
you, that true kindness and sympathy will always win, where 
arrogance and pride will only gain contempt, and lead to dis- 
appointment and regret." 

“Uncle Jacob, you cannot mean what you have said. Surely 
you will not discard those of your own blood, your kin, for the 
offspring of a stranger !" Mrs. Richards said, appealingly. 

Mr. Rosevelt looked down at Star with a tender, tremulous 
smile. 

“The offspring of a stranger!" he repeated, softly; then 
added : “Ellen, there is a stronger bond uniting this dear child 
to me than ever bound me to either of my brother’s children." 

“What do you mean?" cried his niece, in a startled tone. 
“Surely, 2X your age, you do not contemplate " 

Mr. Rosevelt stopped her with a motion of his_^hand before 
she could complete her sentence. 


278 


DEFEA TED. 


“No; you are wide of the mark; although I am not sur- 
prised that a designing woman like yourself should jump at 
such an absurd conclusion. But, lest you should wound her by 
your foolish insinuations, I will tell you that Star is the grand- 
daughter of the only woman whom I ever loved ; and, there- 
fore, you perceive that I had additional cause to be displeased 
with you on account of your unkindness to her.’' 

“Really, Mr. Rosevelt, you have more of sentiment in your 
composition than I gave you credit for. There was a love- 
passage, then, in the old bachelor’s life!" sneered Mrs. Richards, 
while an angry flush mounted to her brow. 

Then, with more bitterness than she had yet betrayed, she 
continued, with a look at Star : 

“1 can congratulate Miss Gladstone upon being more suc- 
cessful in wheedling you out of your fortune than she was in 
her maneuvers to become Lady Carrol." 

This was a cruel thrust, and wholly unexpected on the part 
of either Mr. Rosevelt or Star. 

A shiver of agony ran through every nerve of her body at this 
rough probing of the still unhealed wound, and a painful^crim- 
son shot over her beautiful face. 

But it quickly subsided, leaving only the bright spots on her 
cheeks. 

She arose from the chair where Mr. Rosevelt had placed her, 
drew herself up proudly, her eyes gleaming as bright as the 
diamonds in her ears, and, entirely ignoring the coarse woman’s 
malicious thrust, she looked up at her companion, and said, in 
her clearest, sweetest tones : 

“Uncle Jacob, I believe we were going out to see the illu- 
mination." 

“True, child, true," he said, taking her white-gloved hand 
and laying it upon his arm, while he cast a dark look upon 
his niece for her cowardly attack. “Come, we will go at 
once and with a formal inclination to Mrs. Richards and her 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE, 


279 


daughter, but with an angry gleam in his eyes, he led Star 
from the room, shutting the door, with no gentle sound, after 
them. 

“Did you ever hear anything like it!'' Mrs. Richards said, 
hopelessly, after they had gone. 

“ No, indeed ; and it is just as you suspected — he was playing 
poverty all the time," Josephine answered. 

“Oh, if I could only have known it!" groaned her mother, 
to whom the calamity appeared to grow more appalling every 
moment. 

“ He makes a perfect fool of himself over that girl," snapped 
Josephine, ill-naturedly. “Just think of the amount of money 
it must have cost to deck her out to-night." 

“ I am going back to our hotel," Mrs. Richards said, rising, 
with a desperate air. “I am not going to stay here to see her 
play the fine lady and crow over us. " 

“I’m ready to go. I've had enough of this thing, and I 

never did like the House very well, anyway," replied her 

daughter, in no amiable tones. 


CHAPTER XXVIIL 

RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE. 

If Mrs. Richards had conducted herself according to her own 
inclination, she would have left Newport at once. But she was 
unwilling that Mr. Rosevelt or Star should think that she had 
run away from them, or that she was heart-broken over the dis- 
closures which her uncle had made to her. 

Besides, Newport was full of wealthy and fashionable people, 


28 o 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE, 


and among them several eligible young gentlemen, whose ac- 
quaintance, for Josephine's sake, she was desirous of cultivating ; 
and surely she was not going to sacrifice all these advantages, 
and leave the field clear for Star to win even greater victories. 

No ; she would stay, and she resolved she would make things 
just as uncomfortable for the young girl as possible, while Jose- 
phine should be made to shine with all the splendor of which 
their means, and Mr. Richards' credit, were capable. 

But aH the proud woman’s efforts were of no' avail, for our 
fair heroine had created a sensation which threatened to turn 
the heads and lead captive the hearts of every unmarried man, 
at least, in Newport 

A week passed quickly by, and then Grace Meredith and her 
brother arrived at the watering-place, and immediately attached 
themselves to Mr. Rosevelt and Star by mutual consent ; and 
many envious looks were bestowed upon the dark, handsome 
stranger, who appeared to assume the right of acting as escort 
to the two beautiful girls upon every occasion. 

But Star, whenever she appeared in company, laughed, 
chatted, and danced with all that was possible of her admirers, 
dispensing her smiles and favors with an impartiality that was 
exasperating not only to her victims — if such they could be 
called who were each anxious to win the prize — but also to the 
many forlorn damsels who were all sighing for the attentions 
she was receiving and the honors she was usurping. 

One day, about a week after the arrival of the Merediths, an 
excursion was arranged to visit a point on Narragansett Bay, 
and it was to be a picnic after the good old-fashioned style of 
carrying each his own basket and sharing with his neighbor. 

A boat had been chartered to take the party down the bay in 
the morning and return at night by moonlight. 

Ralph Meredith and two or three of his friends were the 
originators of the affair, and the invitations were very select, 
and limited to one hundred. 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE, 


281 


As it happened, Mrs. Richards and Josephine, with quite a 
number of others from their hotel, were included in this party. 

The morning was delightful, and the spirits of the whole 
company at their highest, point, while the jaunty, white-winged 
boat, with its inspiriting band of music and its gayly dressed 
picnickers, seemed like a little floating world devoted entirely 
to pleasure, as indeed it was. 

Josephine Richards had arrayed herself in a very elaborate 
costume for the occasion, determined that Star, who she knew 
was to be one of the company, should not outshine her. 

It .fitted her like a glove, and was vastly becoming ; she never 
had looked more brilliant in her life, but she was too fussy for 
a picnic, and looked as if she was decked out for a fashionable 
reception rather than for a day in the^ woods. 

In diiect contrast to all this ‘‘fuss and feathers,"' was Star, in 
a simple suit of white lawn, a belt of blue, of her eyes" own 
hue, girdling her slender waist ; a dainty, broad-brimmed hat, 
set in a jaunty way upon her golden head, and a little cluster of 
blue-fringed gentians nestling beneath her beautifully rounded 
chin. 

The very simplicity of her attire made her conspicuous, and 
fashionable maidens, who had groaned in spirit over what they . 
should wear and how they should wear it, glared at her with 
envious eyes. 

Ralph Meredith had arranged a cozy little nook on the boat 
for Star and his sister, by taking some camp-chairs along and 
cushioning them with handsome rugs, with a couple of has- 
socks for their feet, while a sail had been adjusted as an awning 
to screen them from the hot sun. 

But when, after they were well on their way, he conducted 
them thither, he found to his chagrin that this snug corner, 
upon which he had spent so much care, had been appropriated 
by Mrs. Richards and her brilliant daughter, who were holding 
a little court by themselves. 


282 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE, 


‘'Never mind/' Star whispered; “I do not care to sit just 
now, and I particularly wish not to disturb them." 

“But I particularly wished you and Grace to have a com- 
fortable place where you could enjoy your sail," he returned, 
indignantly. 

“I know, and you were very kind and thoughtful; but I 
shall feel better to leave them to get what enjoyment they can 
from occupying seats which they must know were intended for 
others. What do you say, Grace.?" Star asked, appealing to 
Miss Meredith. 

“ I do not see but what \ve shall be obliged to submit, since 
I do not wish to be rude to any of our party. But I must say 
I think they are very cool." 

They moved away to another portion of the boat, but when, 
an hour later, they saw the interlopers promenading the deck, 
they quietly slipped into the vacated seats, and settled them- 
selves for the remainder of the sail. 

Here they were soon chatting in the most sociable manner, 
and were right in the midst of a most interesting discussion 
regarding their toilet for an approaching reception, when a cold 
voice broke out upon them, saying : 

“Miss Gladstone, may I trouble you to vacate our chairs.?" 

Star started and flushed. Too well she knew those incisive 
tones. 

But she quickly recovered herself, however, and looking up 
at Mrs. Richards, for it was she who had spoken, said : 

Your chairs? Are they yours?" 

“Certainly; you have already seen us occupying them, I be- 
lieve," the woman responded, haughtily. 

Star’s face began to dimple with amusement, for she knew 
well enough that this demand was only made to annoy her and 
make her unpleasantly conspicuous, and she was determined to 
turn the tables to their own mortification; for they could not 


RESCUED EROM A HORRIBLE EATE. 283 

fail to learn when they landed to whom the chairs and other 
comforts belonged. 

She made a motion to Grace, who, she saw, was bristling 
with indignation, to keep silent ; then she arose, bowing with 
graceful politeness to Mrs. Richards and her daughter, though 
her eyes were gleaming with suppressed laughter. 

I beg pardon if I have been occupying what does not right- 
fully belong to me, and I cheerfully resign my chair to your 
prior claim. ” 

Josephine flushed, for she saw that it was all Star could do 
to restrain her merriment, though what should have caused it 
she could not understand ; while she looked so pretty and was 
so lady-like, it made her angry. 

‘‘I’m sure,” she began, hotly, and raising her voice so that 
others could hear her, “I don't see what you're so amused 
over, Stella Gladstone ; and it seems to me that you're putting 
on altogether too many airs for a girl who used to perform the 
services of a chambermaid in our house.” 

For a moment Star stood as if dumfounded ; then she lifted 
her bright head a trifle, as if in conscious superiority, gave 
Miss Richards a cool stare of surprise, and turned away with- 
out a word. 

Not so Miss Meredith, however. 

She kept her seat with the utmost composure, watching this 
little scene with both interest and amusement until Josephine 
so tauntingly insulted her friend. 

Then she, too, arose, drawing her tall form to its fullest 
height. 

“ I cannot understand,” she said,- in a voice of scorn, ‘Svhy 
you should so maliciously insult Miss Gladstone; but allow 
me to say for your enlightenment, that these chairs, rugs, and 
so forth, belong to my brother, Mr. Ralph Meredith, and he 
arranged them here especially for^Miss Gladstone's and my 
comfort. However, I will emulate her example, and resign 


284 RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE. 

my right to ladies who have proved themselves so superior in 
point of refinement and politeness” 

Having uttered this cutting sarcasm, Miss Meredith bowed 
mockingly and walked away to rejoin her friend, leaving those 
haughty and overbearing women about as chagrined and crest- 
fallen as it is possible for two people to feel. 

The gay company reached their destination after a delightful 
sail of two hours. 

It was a lovely grove upon the shore of the bay, which people 
were in the habit of frequenting for picnics of this sort, and the 
party wandered about in groups for another two hours, ex- 
ploring the beauties and attractions around them. 

At two o'clock everybody gathered to dine in a place which 
had been prepared for that purpose; the tables were spread 
with the contents of the numerous baskets, which contained 
every delicacy which the season afforded, and the gay company, 
making the woods resonant with laughter and merriment, sat 
down to their rural meal. 

It was four in the afternoon before this important part in the 
day's programme was concluded, and then the company scat- 
tered, some to lounge about and rest, others to stroll into the 
deep, inviting shadows of the woods. 

Mr. Rosevelt and Star, Miss Meredith and her brother, with 
two or three others, wandered away by themselves, and finally 
sat down beneath a wide-spreading tree for a quiet chat. 

While they sat there. Star got up quietly and slipped out of 
sight, some spirit of restlessness possessing her to get away for 
a ramble still farther into the far-reaching woods. 

She had walked some distance, when she heard voices, and 
soon saw a gentleman and a lad, both with guns over their 
shoulders, approaching her, and looking heated and anxious. 

They saluted her courteously, and then the gentleman said, 
abruptly : 

“ Have you seen anything of a small, white Spitz dog, miss.? 


RESCUED FROM A HCTRRIBLE FATE, 


285 


It is a pretty little creature, wearing a silver collar around his 
neck, and tiny blue bows tied in his ears/^ 

No,'’ Star answered ; ‘‘I have seen no dog to-day." 

“We are in search of it because we are afraid it has run 
mad," the stranger continued, peering about with a troubled 
countenance. “It has not been well for several days, and this 
morning showed unmistakable signs of hydrophobia. It escaped 
confinement from the cottage, a mile or so from here, and ran 
toward these woods about an hour ago." 

They passed on, and Star thought it would be best for her 
to go back to her friends, and therefore turned to retrace 
her steps. 

She had only accomplished about half of the distance, when 
she heard a clear, musical laugh ring out from among the 
shrubbery on the right of the path. 

Thinking it must be some of her party, she stepped forward 
to warn them of their danger. She parted the branches with 
her hands and looked through. 

What was her horror to see Josephine Richards sitting at the 
foot of a tree, her hat tossed upon the ground beside her, and 
holding in her lap ihe little mad dog against which she had just 
been w^arned. 

It was a beautiful little creature, and had evidently been 
made a pet and plaything. It had lovely brown eyes, looking 
out from beneath its shaggy brows ; its coat was as w^hite as 
snow, while around its neck there glistened the silver collar, 
and in its pretty ears were the tiny blue bows of which she had 
been told. 

Miss Richards evidently had just coaxed the little pet into 
her lap, and was playing wfith it without a suspicion of the ter- 
rible danger that she was in, while just for that moment it 
showed no signs of the madness which possessed it. 

Star’s face was as white as her spotless dress as she took in 


286 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE. 


the dreadful situation ; then she stepped quickly forward and 
said, in clear but authoritative tones : 

‘'Miss Richards, put that dog down as quietly as you can, 
and come away with me instantly, for I have just Deen told that 
it is mad/' 

Scarcely were the words uttered, when the little creature 
snapped at the hand raised to caress it, and, with a scream of 
fright, Josephine sprang to her feet and turned to fly. 

But the act aroused all the fury of the maddened animal, and 
he seized hold of her skirts, biting and tearing them in the 
most furious manner, foaming at the mouth, and howling 
frightfully in its sudden paroxysm of frenzy. 

“Save me ! save me !’' Josephine screamed, and flying toward 
Star for protection. 

There was not a thought of personal danger in the fair young 
girls heart — not a thought of enmity, or of malice or evil ; all 
her mind was concentrated upon one thing — how best to save 
her companion from this terrible danger and from a horrible 
death. 

“Stand still !" she commanded, in steady, almost stern tones. 
“Let him bite at your clothes all he chooses, but do not allow 
him to get at your feet; if you run, he will seize them and bite 
right through your boot. Have you courage to stand where 
you are for a moment? I will go behind him and slip the end 
of my parasol through his collar and pin him to the ground ; 
then you can go and call help for me. " 

She spoke calmly but rapidly, and Josephine saw at once how 
much wisdom there was in her plan. 

“Yes, yes; I will do anything," she said, hysterically; “but 
be quick, for I cannot bear this much longer; I shall faint 
dead away." 

‘ ‘ If you faint, " Star returned, in an awful voice, ‘ ‘ you are 
lost ! There ! he has entangled himself in that ruffle which he 


RESCUED FROM A HORRIBLE FATE. 287 

has torn from your dress. Be still just a moment longer, and 
I will save you if I can.” 

Watching her opportunity, she stole softly behind the strug- 
gling animal, and, by a dextrous movement, slipped the end 
of her parasol, which was quite a stout one, into his collar, 
and then, with all her strength, drove it into the ground and 
held it there, though the creature struggled furiously to release 
himself. 

Her face had not an atom of color in it, but her lips did not 
falter as she said to the horror-stricken girl watching her : 

‘‘Go now quickly and call help for me, for, small as he is, I 
cannot hold him long.” 

Josephine did not need a second bidding, but went shrieking 
back to the company in a way to arouse the dead almost. 

She had not been gone two minutes — though those two 
minutes seemed like an age to Star, who found an almost 
superhuman strength in that writhing, twisting thing at her 
feet — when the bushes behind her parted again, and the same 
gentleman who had met and warned her of this danger sprang 
toward her, with his gun cocked and aimed at the dog. 

His face was almost as colorless as her own. 

“Can you hold him just an instant longer,.? — will you dare 
hold him while I shoot him .? I will not harm you in the least,” 
he questioned, in rapid tones. 

“Yes, I will hold him,” she said, resolutely. “If I let him 
loose now, he will surely bite somebody.” 

Although she spoke so steadily and with so much fortitude, 
she looked like some beautiful spirit from another world, and 
the gentleman knew he must do what he had to do quickly, or 
it would be too late. 

There was an instant of silence, then a quick, sharp report 
rang through the woods, and the little danger-fiend lay bleeding 
and dead at her feet. 

All peril was past. 


288 


JOSEPHINE'S INGRATITUDE. 


Star had saved an enemy from a horrible fate — she had done 
a heroic deed ; but the tension on her own nerves gave way 
when it was over. She swayed, tottered, and would have fallen 
to the ground, but another figure sprang through the bushes to 
her side, and her fainting form was received into the strong 
a/ms of Ralph Meredith. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Josephine’s ingratitude. 

Confusion reigned during the next half hour among the 
company who had hitherto been so gay. Josephine Richards 
had rushed into their midst, startling everybody out of their 
senses by shrieking out : 

Go to Miss Gladstone ! A mad dog ! a mad dog !” 

It was all that she could say, for she immediately after sank 
down helpless in a violent fit of hysterics, while the women, 
with white faces, huddled together in fear and trembling, and 
the men, with horrified eyes and quaking hearts, ran hither and 
thither io search of Star. 

Then there had come that quick, sharp report, directing 
them to ihe spot, and telling them that all danger to them was 
past. But the terrible question arose ; 

“Was Miss Gladstone safe.^’” 

Ralph Meredith, his feet winged with love and fear, was, 
as we have seen, first upon the scene of the tragedy, and 
caught her frantically to his heart just as she was falling to the 
ground. 

“Is she bitten?” he cried, in a voice of agony, and with 


JOSEPHINE 'S INGRA TITUDE. 289 

shen lips, to the stranger, who stood, gun in hand, over the 
dead dog. 

*'No; she has not even a scratch; she has merely fainted 
from fright,'' he answered; and throwing down his gun, he 
took a long pocket-flask filled with brandy from his hunting- 
pouch, and approached the unconscious girl. 

He knelt upon the ground beside her and poured a few 
drops between her lips though his hands trembled violently 
from the terrible excitement and anxiety under which he had 
been laboring. 

“ Go for some water," he said to his son, who, having heard 
the report of his father’s fowling-piece, now appeared upon 
the scene. 

He darted away like a fawn, and was back in less than three 
minutes with a pitcherful, which he had seized from the camp, 
while a frightened crowd followed at his heels. 

But it was a long time before Star revived. The shock to 
her nervous system had been a terrible one, and nature seemed 
loth to resume her sway after it. But at the end of half an 
hour her chest began to heave, and a slight tinge of color 
returned to her lips. 

Ralph Meredith, who hung over Tier In an agony of suspense 
and fear, \vould let no one touch her or come near her, save 
his sister and Mr. Rosevelt ; and he found that it required all 
the strength of his will to keep him from betraying to the 
gaping crowd the passionate love he entertained for the sense- 
less girl. 

Finally, to everybody's relief, those white lids were unclosed, 
those beautiful eyes looked up, and a long, shuddering sigh 
shook her whole frame. 

“What has happened?" she questioned, with a vacant look. 

“You are faint, dear. Drink this and you will be better," 
Grace Meredith said, gently, while she held a silver cup to 
her lips. 


290 


JOSEPHINE* S INGRATITUDE. 


She swallowed the stimulus mechanically, and then began to 
shiver, as if from the cold. 

“I remember,'' she murmured, all the color fading from her 
face again, and they feared another season of unconsciousness 
would follow. 

“ Is he dead?" she asked, a moment after, beginning to rally 
once more. 

“Yes; he was killed instantly," Ralph Meredith returned. 

“And Josephine — Miss Richards — is she safe?" 

Everybody looked surprised at this query, for no one had 
had any idea that that young lady had been in any danger 
until now. 

“Yes; Miss Richards is safe," Mr. Rosevelt answered; but 
a frown contracted his brow as he began to understand that Star 
had sacrificed her own safety and endangered her own life to" 
save that of an ungrateful girl. 

No one had been able to gather from Josephine’s excited and 
incoherent account anything save that a mad dog had attacked 
Miss Gladstone in the woods. She said not a word of how the 
noble girl had come to her rescue, warned her of her danger, 
and then put into execution a hazardous plan to secure her 
safety. 

There was not an atom of gratitude in her heart toward Star 
for having done this heroic deed — no softening, no sense of 
sorrow or repentance for her own unkindness in the past, or 
for the insult which she had only that day offered her ; there 
was only a sense of triumph that she herself was safe, no matter 
how or at whose risk. 

When they came, bringing Star back — for she was still too 
weak to walk — to the spot where they had all gathered so gay 
and thoughtless that morning, there was a look of sadness and 
sympathy in every countenance save those of Mrs. Richards and 
her daughter, who stole away by themselves, jealous of the in- 


JOSEPHINE'S INGRATITUDE, 


291 

terest and concern manifested by the whole company for the 
object of their hatred. 

When Star found that Josephine had kept the facts of the 
encounter with the mad dog to herself, simply stating that Miss 
Gladstone had been attacked by it, she also appeared very reluc- 
tant to converse about it, and as the subject seemed to excite 
her, no one felt disposed to press her with questions. 

The gentleman who owned the dog sent to his home for his 
carriage to have her conveyed to the steamer, although she had 
smilingly affirmed that she should be ‘^able to walk with the 
help of Uncle Jacobs arm.'' 

Upon reaching the boat they improvised a couch for her on 
deck, as she objected going into the saloon, and by resting 
quietly during the two hours' sail, she seemed almost like her- 
self save her unusual pallor, when the vessel touched the pier 
at Newport. 

A carriage was here procured, and she was driven, with Mr. 
Rosevelt, Miss Meredith, and her brother, to her hotel. 

Grace insisted upon remaining through the night with her. 

'‘You are not fit to be left alone, and — I want to stay," she 
pleaded, as Star hesitated about accepting her offer. 

So the two young girls passed the night together, and Star, 
growing confidential, and feeling that some explanation regard- 
ing Josephine's insulting remarks that morning was due her 
friend, told her much concerning her life, and how it had hap- 
pened that she was at one time an inmate of Mrs. Richards' 
family ; also relating the events that had transpired since she 
and Mr. Rosevelt left them, and how she had rescued Josephine 
from the mad dog. 

Star was really ill from nervous prostration the next day, and 
obliged to keep her room ; but Miss Meredith regaled curious 
ears with the whole story of Josephine Richards' danger and 
Star's courageous defense of her, an.d all Newport did indeed 
“ring" even as she had hoped. 


292 


JOSEPHINE^ S INGRATITUDE, 


Enough could not be said in admiration of the brave girl, 
while scorn and contempt were freely expressed for the re- 
cipients of so much heroism for refusing to acknowledge their 
indebtedness, and awarding her the commendation she deserved. 

Mr. Rosevelt w^as even more unnerved, when he learned the 
truth, than he had been the previous day. 

He came to her room, wan and haggard, after talking with 
Miss Meredith, and sank, weak and trembling, into a chair at 
her side. 

“My child,"' he said, brokenly, as he took both her hands 
and looked them carefully over with tear-laden eyes, “are you 
sure you did not get a scratch anywhere.?’" 

“Quite sure. Uncle Jacob,” Star replied, reassuringly; “the 
dog did not touch me anywhere, and if he had, I had a pair 
of stout undressed kid gloves on, and they would have pro- 
tected me.” 

“But you were in terrible danger. Suppose you had not 
succeeded in pinning him down, and he had turned upon 
you?” he said, with a shudder. 

“I did not think, of that,” Star answered; “but if I had 
known that he would turn upon me, I believe I should have 
tried to save Josephine just the same. Somebody was in danger 
of being bitten even if she escaped unharmed, and I felt that I 
must strain every nerve and not allow him to get among the 
company. The dog was a tiny little thing,” she went on, flush- 
ing and becoming excited as she seemed to live over again that 
dreadful experience; “but, oh. Uncle Jacob, he w^as terribly 
strong. I thought once that I should have to let him go ; I 
could not have held him one minute longer;” and she covered 
her face with her hands, weeping from nervousness. 

“We must not talk about it any more; it excites you,” Mr. 
Rosevelt said, soothingly; “but the world would have been 
very dark for me if anything had happened to you ; and — I am 
bitter enough to feel that Josephine Richards’ safety is dearly 


JOSEPHINE'S INGRATITUDE, 


293 

bought, even at the sacrifice of nothing more than your nerves 
and strength,'' he concluded, in a stern tone. 

Star reached out one white hand and laid it gently upon his, 
saying, with grave sweetness, while she wiped away her tears : 

“Uncle Jacob, let us not judge too harshly nor be unfor- 
giving. ‘Charity,' you know, ‘suffereth long and is kind, and 
never faileth.' Surely you would not have had me run away 
like a coward, and leave her sitting there playing with that mad 
creature, knowing that she was in such fearful danger.?" 

“N-o," he admitted, reluctantly. 

“Just think," Star went on; “she had him in her lap, and 
I did not speak one instant too soon, for hardly had I told her 
that he was mad, when he snapped at her. No ; lam glad 
that I did what was right, and Josephine Richards' life was 
every bit as precious to me yesterday as that of any one else, 
and I should have done just the same had she been an enemy 
a hundred-fold more than she is. She has endeavored to injure 
me, I know, in every possible way, and, in all the ordinary 
walks of life, I should let her alone. Her spite and ill-will, 
however bitter, cannot do me any real harm, although they may 
annoy me exceedingly, and doubtless will, in the end, rebound 
upon herself ; but I am glad that I did not falter yesterday. I 
did what I could with the kindest of motives ; and if she does 
not feel that she owes me anything, it cannot alter the fact that 
I did viy duty." 

Mr. Rosevelt regarded her with an almost worshipful look. 

“That good book, which you love so well, says that ‘a little 
child shall lead them and truly. Star, you in your youth 
shame me in my maturer years by your Christian spirit," he 
said, in an humble tone. 

Star did not reply^ but she looked very happy. 

“Surely Uncle Jacob must have been reading some in ‘ that 
good book,'#to quote thus from it," she thought, while his 
remark about a Christian spirit told that he was thinking upon 


294 


“/ LOVE HIM still:' 


upon the more serious questions of life — all of which was very 
encouraging to her who had so often been wounded by his 
bitterness and skepticism. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

LOVE HIM STILL." 

The first of the week following the events just related, 
Mrs. Richards and her daughter were suddenly ‘‘recalled to 
Brooklyn.” 

Newport had become, as Miss Meredith had prophesied, 
“ too hot for them.” 

They were gone almost before any one knew that they con- 
templated going; and, it must be confessed, that it was a great 
relief to both Star and Mr. Rosevelt when they learned of 
their flitting, and knew they would be obliged to meet them 
no more. 

Star had recovered her usual health and strength, but she 
had suffered such a shock that she could not meet or see a dog 
without a feeling of fear and an almost overpowering weakness, 
and she never entirely outgrew this feeling during her life. 

She had seemed unusually thoughtful, too, since the event 
Most people, noticing it, thought it but natural, considering 
the fearful danger she had been in, but Star had a very different 
reason for it 

The moment she had returned to consciousness and found 
herself in Ralph Merediths arms, seen his agonized looks, 
heard his tones of fear, realized the passionate, ^though trem- 
bling clasp in which she was held, the terrible throbbings of 


«/ LOVE HIM STILL,'* 


295 


his heart as she lay against it, and noted the quiver of his pale 
lips as he hung over her and begged her to assure him that she 
was unharmed, she knew that he was no longer what she had 
hitherto regarded him — merely a kind and congenial friend. 

Those signs she had interpreted in a way to make her feel 
very grave and deeply troubled. . 

She felt that he regarded her with feelings which she knew it 
would be impossible for her ever to return, and she feared he 
was cherishing hopes which, if not ‘‘nipped in the bud,” might 
ruin his whole life. 

His every look and act since that day had told her as plainly 
as words could have done that he loved her, and she was con- 
stantly trying to think of some way to make him discover how 
hopeless his passion was without bringing matters to a crisis. 

But this was not to be. 

One evening they all went for a walk in the park, where they 
spent an hour listening to the music and strolling about. 

As they were returning, Ralph succeeded in securing Star as 
a companion ; perchance his sister knew his design in so doing, 
and aided him by asking Mr. Rosevelt for his arm and making 
herself as agreeable as she could to him. 

“Come this way,” Ralph whispered, leading the fair girl down 
a path at right angles to the one they had been traversing; 
“we shall all meet at the gate;” and Star could find no reason- 
able excuse to offer, although her heart beat ominously at the 
request. 

The evening was delightfully cool and pleasant, the air fra- 
grant with the perfume of many flowers, while the music in the 
distance lent its own enchantment to the place and hour. 

It was just the time for Cupid to be busy with his arrows, 
and Ralph Meredith felt that it was an opportunity not to be 
lost, and governed himself accordingly. 

“Miss Gladstone,” he said, abruptly, after a rather awkward 
silence, “I am obliged to return to New York to-morrow.” 


2^6 


LOVE HIM STILLI^^ 


‘^Are you?’' Star asked, in surprise. ‘‘Is it not a sudden 
departure?” 

“ Rather. I had hoped to remain a week longer.” 

“Surely your sister does not accompany you? I should 
miss her sorely ; I should regret to lose her more than I can 
tell you.” 

The young man’s face fell. He had not been included in her 
regret. But he rallied, and said, lightly : 

“My sister is highly favored, Miss Gladstone; but I had 
flattered myself that I also should be missed.” 

“ Pardon me, if my words conveyed to you the idea that you 
would not,” Star said, quickly. “You have been most kind, 
Mr. Meredith, and 1 shall most certainly miss your companion- 
ship and your friendly attentions.” 

Friendly attentions ! 

Mr. Meredith had received another stab. 

“But,” she added, “will Grace go with you? You have 
not yet told me, and I have not heard her say anything about 
leaving.” 

She hoped thus to ward off what she feared was coming, and 
turn the conversation in another channel. 

“No; Grace will remain for another week. But, Miss Glad- 
stone — Star,” he began, desperately, “I could not leave with- 
out seeking this private interview with you to learn my fate. 
You have tailed my attentions ‘friendly.’ Have you not real- 
ized that they have been vastly more than that? Have you not 
seen that I have grown to love you madly, idolatrously ? You 
are modest as a violet, my bright Star; and although I have 
tried to win some sign of answering affection from you, yet you 
have not given me one. You have evaded my every look, my 
every word of love. But, my beautiful darling, it seems as if 
my true heart must find in yours a fond return. You will tell 
me to-night, will you not, dear, that you will give yourself to 
me? Star, how shall I tell you of the depth of my love? — how 


«/ LOVE HIM still:' 


297 


you have become so necessary to me, that if you should send 
me away without hope, the future would hold nothing to tempt 
me, nothing to make life worth the living. When I held you 
in my arms last Wednesday, and believed that your life had 
been endangered — when you lay unconscious upon my breast, 
close to my heart, so white and still, so exactly as if you were 
dead, I said to myself that I could not, I cared not to live, if 
-you were taken from me. My love, look up into my eyes, lay 
your hand in mine, and tell me you will give yourself to me.'' 

He stopped in the path and waited for her answer — waited 
for her to lay her hand in his, as he had asked her to do, and 
bid him to hope and be the happiest man in the universe. 

But her beautiful golden head was bent, as if weighted with 
some heavy care or sorrow. The star-like face was pale and 
downcast, and the lovely eyes, into which he Ibnged to read an 
answering tale of love, were hidden by their white lids and 
curling lashes. 

‘‘Star," he breathed, a note of keen pain in his tone, “do 
not tell me that I must give up my bright dream of joy." 

“Mr. Meredith," she answered, looking up at him with 
sudden resolution, “forget for a little while what you have 
just said to me, and listen, while I read you a page out of my 
own heart. " 

A look of suffering came into his eyes, his lips trembled, 
and he breathed heavily, but he answered : 

“ I cannot 'forgetj but I will ‘ listen,' as you wish." 

“ Nearly two years ago," Star began, “ I came to America in 

the , a vessel that sailed from Liverpool to New York'. 

Perhaps you remember that it was lost at sea. I was one of 

the few who were saved, and afterward picked up by the 

another homeward bound vessel. As I w^as lifted from the life- 
boat to the deck of the noble craft, I fainted from exhaustion, 
and fell into the arms of a stranger, w'ho bore me to a state- 
room and gave me into the care of a stewardess. I met him a 


298 


«/ LOVE HIM still:' 


day 01 two afterward on the deck. He was a noble, manly- 
looking gentleman, some four years my senior. We were thrown 
much into each others society during the remainder of the 
voyage, and there came into my heart during that time a feeling 
for him which will prevent me from ever loving another while 
I live. When we landed we parted as friends, though we ex- 
changed souvenirs, and he expressed the hope that we should 
^eet again. A few months later we did meet, our friendship 
was renewed, and soon ripened into something deeper — in fact, 
lie won my heart entirely. We were betrothed, and for a few 
days earth became a paradise to me. I firmly believed him to 
be all that he appeared. I could have staked my life upon his 
truth and honor, and I would have defended him with my latest 
breath had any one assailed his fair fame or doubted his alle- 
giance to me. "TBut I could not doubt the evidence of my own 
senses, and he proved himself a traitor in my very presence. 
He played me false before the vows which he had uttered to 
me had scarcely grown cold upon his lips. I spurned him with 
scorn; I denounced him as the traitor and coward which I 
knew him to be ; but, oh, Mr. Meredith, strange as it may 
seem to you, I — I love him still. Perhaps it is unmaidenly in 
me to tell you this, perhaps it betrays weakness and a lack of 
proper dignity on my part ; but I feel that I owe it to you, to 
make you understand how impossible it is for me to reciprocate 
your affection. He won my girlish heart, he bound me irre- 
vocably to him by the power of his will and the charm of his 
oily tongue, and I can never love another. You will say that 
he is unworthy such constancy, or even of a regret. I know 
he is, and yet while I own it, my soul is reaching after him 
with all the strength of a deathless love. I began to fear, a 
week ago, that you w^ere entertaining feelings for me which 
would bring sorrow upon us both. You say that I have evaded 
you. I have done so ; I have tried to show you that the hopes 
which I feared you were entertaining could never be realized, 


“/ LOVE HIM STILLV 


299 


and I wish that you had never spoken the words which you 
have to-night; for I know — you know, that you could never be 
satisfied to take any one to your heart who was always turning 
from you to another, who, although she knew she was loving 
unworthily, would not yet have the power to keep her affec- 
tions from straying from you, and who could not keep her 
vows of allegiance to you, for such vows, if spoken, would be 
but mockery. Mr. Meredith, you could never be satisfied with 
such a wife as that,'' she concluded, in a voice which shook 
with emotion. 

“No, Miss Gladstone," he answered, sorrowfully. “I love 
you too fondly, too devotedly, to be content with anything save 
an affection as strong and true as my own. But," with a note 
of earnest appeal in his tone, “could I not win you by and by.? 
Could I not teach you to love me by proving to you that I am 
worthy of your love.?" 

Star shook her head sadly. 

“I know that you are worthy at this moment," she said. “ I 
have the deepest respect for you, and value you as a friend ; but 
nothing — no one can ever win the love which I must always 
bear for Archibald Sherbrooke. He has broken my heart and 
ruined my life ; for I can never be the wife of any worthy man, 
since I will not live a lie. I can never have a home of my own ; 
I can never have those sweet domestic ties and duties which 
other women have ; I can only try to do my duty by the dear 
old man who is so fond of me while he lives, and, after that, 
live out my lonely life with what patience and courage I can," 
she concluded, with such a pathos that the young man for the 
moment forgot his own sorrow and disappointment in pity 
for her. 

“Where is he — where is this coward who has so imposed 
upon you, ruined your life, and proved faithless to his troth? 
Tell me, that I may go and brand him the knave and villain 
that he is!" Ralph Meredith cried, in hot indignation. 


300 


“7 LOVE HIM still:" 


I do not know where he is/' Star answered. I have never 
seen him since that night when I told him that I had discovered 
his treachery. That was nearly a year ago. I never expect to 
meet him again — I never wish to meet him again. I desire to 
ignore him — at least, to all outward appearances; and if he 
possesses such an attribute as a conscience, his punishment 
must come sometime. But," she went on, in a voice of pain, 

‘ ‘ I hope no one else will ever learn to love me, for I cannot 
endure the thought that I shall spoil other lives as mine has 
been spoilt. Oh, Mr. Meredith, I am sorry if 1 have uncon- 
sciously done you a wrong. Pray, forget me if you can, 
and " 

“That I can never do," he interrupted, gently, for he saw 
that she was deeply moved ; “but I will try and be content if 
you will allow me still to be your friend." 

“Thank you," she returned, while she wiped the tears which 
were falling fast; “it will be a great comfort to me if you will 
permit me to regard you as such. I feared I should incur your 
contempt by the confession I have made to-night ; but I could 
better endure that than that your future should be ruined by 
hoping against hope." 

“Contempt 1" he repeated, earnestly; “such a feeling I could 
never entertain for 3 ^ou ; you have, instead, my deepest sym- 
pathy and respect. But if I ever meet and know the wretch 
who has played you false, let him beware ; for I will surely 
make him repent most bitterly his treachery and baseness 
toward you," he concluded, fiercely. 

A faint smile of scorn curled Stars lips. 

Time would bring its own punishment to her faithless lover, 
she believed, and she had no desire that any one should act as 
her champion in this matter. 

She had called him “Archibald Sherbrooke" purposely, for 
she felt assured that if, by any chance, Ralph Meredith should 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION. 


301 

ever meet him, he would not recognize in Lord Carrol the man 
of whom she had told him. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A NOBLE RESOLUTION. 

V 

‘'You will remember that you have promised that I am still 
to be your friend ; you will not avoid me and deny me the 
pleasure of your society because of what I have told you to- 
night?'' Ralph pleaded, as he and Star drew near the entrance 
of the park, and knew that they would soon be rejoined by his 
sister and Mr. Rosevelt. 

Star looked up at him with a grave face. 

“You shall still be my friend. I will not avoid you if you 
will promise me that you will build no false hopes upon our 
friendship," she said. 

“How can I, when you tell me that there is no hope?" he 
asked, yet his voice trembled and was full of pain. 

“May I continue to visit you when you return to New York ?" 
he resumed, after a moment. 

“Certainly, as one friend would visit another. You have 
made my stay here very pleasant, and I should be very sorry 
not to. see you occasionally, while Grace has become almost 
like a sister to me." 

The young man thanked her with glistening eyes, and with 
a pang at his heart, as he thought how fondly he had hoped to 
make the two girls sisters, and how rudely his bright dream had 
been broken. 

Then they passed out at the gate, where they found Mr. 
Rosevelt and Grace awaiting them. 


302 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION 


Both saw at a glance that the interview had been a sorrowful 
one, and Miss Meredith was bitterly disappointed, for she had 
trusted that Ralph would be able to win the bright, beautiful 
girl for his wife. 

Mr. Rosevelt surmised the cause of Stars rejection of his 
suit, and sighed heavily, for the young man had been a favorite 
with him, and he would have been glad to give her to him. 

But he would never try to influence her upon matters of 
such a delicate nature. She should always do exactly as she 
liked, and he knew that whoever her choice might be, it would 
never be an unworthy one. 

They parted at the door of the hotel, Ralph bidding them 
good-by there, as he was to leave early in the morning, and 
Star knew by the way he wrung her hand that he was bidding 
farewell to hope as well. 

When they reached their private parlor, she went directly to 
Mr. Rosevelt's side and laid her hand upon his arm. Her face 
was flushed and sad, and he saw at once that she was very 
unhappy. 

“What is it, my starling?'' he asked, taking her hand in both 
of his, and speaking very tenderly. 

“Uncle Jacob, I want to go home," she said, wearily. 

“ Bless you, child ! you shall go wherever you like," he said, 
in surprise, and regarding her anxiously. 

“I want to go where you and I can be by ourselves, and 
where I cannot do any mischief," she said, with a sob of pain, 
and he knew beyond a doubt that Ralph Meredith bad pro- 
posed and been rejected. 

“Mischief! tut, tut, little one! What has made you so un- 
happy? Have you sent our young friend away in sorrow?" 

Star nodded her head in reply; she could not find voice to 
answer him. 

“ He is a fine young man — he is a worthy young man," Mr. 
Rosevelt said, gently. 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION 


303 


‘‘Oh, I know it, Uncle Jacob ; but — my heart is dead, and it 
can never live again. Don’t blame me, please—^w know all 
about it, and you know that I could not help it and be true to 
him and myself,” she returned, in deep distress. 

“You have done everything to make me happy,” she went 
on, a little more calmly, “and I thought I was beginning to 
be content and to enjoy life once more ; but I cannot endure 
many scenes like what transpired to-night. Let us go home, 
where I can go to work again, and in my duties there forget, if 
possible, the misery of the past, which I have been made to 
live over again to-night.” 

“We will leave Newport to-morrow, if you wish,” Mr. Rose- 
velt said, after a little thought; “but we will not go back to 
New York just yet — we will spend two or three weeks in sight- 
seeing first. We will go to the White Mountains, from there to 
Montreal, then down the St. Lawrence and the lake to Niagara, 
and then home. That will give us a change and a nice little 
trip, besides a knowledge of something of the country. It is a 
long time since I went over that ground, and I think I should 
enjoy the journey, if the idea pleases you.” 

He was not going to let her go back to New York and bury 
herself at home, where she would brood over her trouble and 
grow pale, thin, and hollow-eyed again ; so he put it in the 
form of a favor to himself. 

Star assented, thinking if the trip would give him pleasure 
she would not say “nay.” She only longed to get away from 
Newport ; it would be a change, and a spirit of unrest had sud- 
denly possessed her. 

So it was arranged that they should leave the gay resort the 
next day but one. 

“And, Uncle Jacob,” Star pleaded, as they were about to 
retire for the night, “let us not say much about it until to- 
morrow; let us get away as quietly as possible.” 


$04 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION 


‘‘Very well; we will leave the announcement of our de- 
parture as long as we can, without appearing to run away,'' he 
answered, understanding her motive. 

The next morning Star sought Miss Meredith, and confessed, 
with many tears, her rejection of her brother. 

“I knew he would tell you," she said, “but I cannot bear 
that you should blame me, Grace. I have not meant to wrong 
your brother, and I would give much to make him as happy 
and free from pain as he was before he knew me. Do not take 
your friendship from me on account of it, for I need it more 
than I ever did before." 

And Grace Meredith, not knowing all, kissed her tenderly, 
while she thought in her heart, “ Perhaps I can help to win her 
for Ralph even yet, if I am patient." 

“Do not grieve," she said, gently. “I know you have in- 
tended no wrong. You cannot help being beautiful and attrac- 
tive; you cannot help it if people will love you. I do not 
blame you, dear, in the least, and I am sure I should not think 
of breaking our friendship, which has been so exceedingly 
pleasant. Ralph did tell me something of this last night, and 
of course I am sorry for him, for he is a very dear brother, and 
a noble fellow, too; but these affairs of the heart, you know," 
she concluded, smiling and flushing, for she knew something 
about it herself, “are entirely beyond our control." 

“Thank you, Grace," Star said, gratefully, although the 
trouble did not fade out of her azure eyes; “you have light- 
ened my burden considerably. It would have been more than 
I could bear to make an enemy of you." 

“ An enemy, you dear little goose !" Grace cried. “ Do you 
suppose 1 would be so foolish as to wish to drive you to marry 
my brother if you could not love him? I love you both too 
w^ell for that ; and now don't let me hear anything more about 
broken friendships, unless I do something to forfeit your re- 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION 


305 

spect, for it would cause me great sorrow to have anything mar 
our intimacy/' 

Star drew a long breath of relief. 

“You are very-good to me/’ she returned; “and now I have 
a little message to you from Uncle Jacob. 

“A message from Mr. Rosevelt! Do let me have it, then, 
for it must be something good," Miss Meredith said, gayly. She 
longed to drive the clouds from her friend s face. 

“We are going to leave Newport." 

“ Going to leave Newport ! When?” 

“To-morrow. ” 

“ If that is your message, it is anything but a welcome one,” 
Miss Meredith said, looking very much disturbed. 

“Oh, but it isn’t,” Star replied; “I was to tell you of our 
plans. We are going from here to the White Mountains, from 
there to Montreal^ down the St. Lawrence River and Lake On- 
tario to Niagara, and then home ; and Uncle Jacob commis- 
sioned me to ask you to be our guest during the trip. Will 
you go, Grace?’' 

Miss Meredith looked thoughtful. 

It would be a sudden start, but the trip offered great attrac- 
tion, to say nothing of the pleasure she would experience in 
Star’s and Mr. Rosevelt's society. 

Ralph was gone, and if these friends should go also, she 
would be very lonely, notwithstanding she had many acquaint- 
ances here. 

“I want you, Grace; please do not refuse,” Star pleaded, as 
she hesitated, and she assented without further demur. 

Accordingly, the next day they all left Newport, and many 
blank fac^ and wistful eyes watched their departure, for they 
had formed a nucleus around which a brilliant circle had col- 
lected, and they would be sadly missed. 

The trip occupied three weeks, and proved a most delightful 
one also. 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION 


306 

Star was a first-rate traveler, Miss Meredith a most pleasant 
companion, and they all regained much of their accustomed 
spirits before it was over, and Mr. Rosevelt congratulated him- 
self that he had planned most wisely. 

“I think it is charming to travel in this way,'' Star said, one 
day while they were at Niagara; ‘'just a few of us who enjoy 
each other, stopping when we choose, going on when we like, 
and having everything our own way. I think there is nothing 
so pleasant as traveling. " 

“ How would you like to go to California and the Yosemite 
Valley.?*’' Mr. Rosevelt asked. 

“ I think I should like it," she answered, enthusiastically. 

“Will you go this fall?" 

“Oh, Uncle Jacob, aren't you tired? Do you not need to 
go home and rest after so much dissipation?" the young girl 
asked, but her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed with an- 
ticipation. 

“Do you call it dissipation to travel?" he asked, smiling at 
her eagerness. “ I enjoy it almost more than anything else." 

“ ^Almost more,' " Star repeated, quickly. “ What would you 
enjoy more?" 

“To you perfectly happy," he replied, tenderly; “and," 
he added, “I believe that traveling does you fully as much 
good as anything else. We will go home and rest a week, then 
we will start for the far West. What do you say to my plan?" 

Miss Meredith's face lighted. 

“Say ‘yes’ to it, by all means. Star," she said, “and — I will 
go with you, if you will have me." 

“^we will have you," Star returned, with dancing eyes. 
“Why, I think it would be the very nicest thing in all the 
world — we three, with Mrs. Blunt to look after us, do have 
such delightful, cozy times." 

“I have been wishing for just such an opportunity for a long 


A NOBLE RESOLUTION. 


307 

time/’ Grace said, ‘‘and if you will take me along with you, I 
should esteem it a great favor.” 

“ I think with Star, that it would be the best arrangement in 
the world ; and, IVfiss Meredith, we shall consider you a mem- 
ber of our party,” Mr. Rosevelt said, with a bow and a smile 
to that young lady. 

Star looked up into the old gentleman’s face. 

“Uncle Jacob, \ioys good you are to me !” she said ; and her 
red lips trembled over the words, for she knew that he had 
planned all this expressly for her sake, to keep her thoughts 
pleasantly employed and from brooding over the past. 

“ My dear, do I not owe my life and all that I am at present 
enjoying to you.?” he asked, gravely. “Remember,” he added, 
“that when you are happy I am happy also, and vice versa; 
whatever cloud darkens your sky is sure to bring sorrow to 
me also ; so let us make the most of our lives while we have 
them.” 

Star looked up brightly after Mr. Rosevelt’s last remark, and 
glancing archly from him to Miss Meredith, said : 

“Well, if so much depends upon my decision — if I hold the 
fate of two such important people in my hands, I shall be 
obliged to say, we will go to California and be happy. But,” 
she added, laughing, “ I warn you both beforehand that I shall 
•not be easily satiated; I shall want to go everywhere and see 
everything. Yes ; we will go home and rest a week, then turn 
our faces toward the ‘golden gate,’ and — ‘westward, ho 1’ ” 


3o8 


“/ PROMISE." 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

PROMISE.” 

On returning to New York, Star learned that Ralph Meredith 
had sailed for Europe a couple of days before their arrival. 

The week that they had promised themselves for rest at home 
proved to be a busy one instead, for considerable preparation 
was necessary for the long journey they were contemplating, as 
it was to occupy three or four months. 

Star was glad to be at home again, and went flitting about 
the house, lull of business and life. 

One day they were out making a few necessary purchases, 
when suddenly, in one of the stores, they came upon Mr. 
Richards. 

He looked aged and care-worn, neglected and unhappy. His 
face lighed with momentary pleasure, however, when he caught 
sight of Mr. Rosevelt and Star, and he came forward to greet 
them with extended hand. 

‘‘I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you once more,” 
he said, heartily. “I am not going to reproach you either for 
running away from us, for, unpleasant as it is for me to say it, 
I could not blame you under the circumstances. But it is only 
within a week or two that I have learned of the change in your 
life ; and. Uncle Jacob, I am sincerely glad that you did not 
lose your fortune, as we supposed.” 

“Thank you. Then you do not feel aggrieved over the 
ruse I played upon you?” replied Mr. Rosevelt, regarding him 
search ingly. 

“Not at all ; it was no more than right that you should wish 


“7 promise:^ 


309 


to know who was worthy to be your heir/' but he sighed heavily 
as he spoke, as he remembered how unworthy his wife had 
proved herself to be. 

“How goes the world with you?" Mr. Rosevelt asked, and 
noticing the return of the care-worn look to Mr. Richards' face. 

“Rather discouragingly just now. I have met with some 
pretty heavy losses lately; don't know whether I shall be able 
to pull through all right or not. A couple of weeks will tell 
the story, however." 

He spoke in a desperate tone, and there was a look in his 
eyes that made Star shudder and involuntarily draw closer to 
Mr. Rosevelt. 

“You don't mean that you are in danger of going under?" 
he said, in surprise, and remembering how his wife and daughter 
had flourished at Newport. 

“Just that," Mr. Richards returned, nervously; “but if it 
was not for the horror I have of debt, and the thought that 
others must suffer through me, I would gladly lay down my 
arms and give up the battle; I am tired to death of this endless 
struggle to keep up appearances. But,'* he added, trying to 
speak more cheerfully, “I won't bore you with my troubles. 
How well you are both looking ; and Star — they tell me you 
are the author of ‘ Chatsworth's Pride.' I declare I was never 
prouder of anything in my life when I heard it. I always knew 
you'd make your mark in the world." 

Star colored. She was a trifle sensitive regarding compli- 
ments of this kind, and never talked about her book if she 
could help it, except with those whom she was sure were her 
true friends. 

But she thanked him gracefully, and then turned the con- 
versation to some other topic, while all the time she was won- 
dering if there was not something that she could do to help or 
comfort him in his trouble. 

“ Now that I have found you," he said, later, “tell me where 


310 


promise:^ 


you live and I will come to see you. I will not invite you to 
Brooklyn/' he continued, with a frown, “for I know you could 
not come there with any comfort, though I should be glad 
enough to see you there. " 

While he was speaking, Star had drawn a little back, so that 
Mr. Rosevelt was between her and Mr. Richards, and he could 
not see her face at all. 

“Uncle Jacob," she whispered, close to his ear, “cannot we 
do something to help him out of his trouble? He looks so 
wild and desperate that he frightens me. He was always kind 
to me, and I'll willingly give up California or anything else you 
please. " 

Jacob Rosevelt's face flushed hotly at these words, and a 
strange gleam came into his fine eyes. He appeared to take 
no notice of her plea, but after giving Mr. Richards their street 
and number, continued : 

“If you have no other engagement, George, come up and 
dine with us to-night, and see how cozy we are. We have 
dinner at six, and as we leave for California on Wednesday night, 
I am afraid we shall not see you again. " 

George Richards caught his breath with a sudden gasp at this 
intelligence, and Star noticed again that frenzied gleam in his 
eyes which had made her heart throb painfully. 

“California, do you?" he said, trying to speak steadily. 
“Well, I will come, of course, then; for life is uncertain, you 
know, and I may never see you again," he. added, with a harsh, 
grating laugh. “Thank you for the invitation, and as I have 
no engagement, I will be on hand in season for dinner. But I 
must be off now, for I have agreed to meet a couple of gentle- 
men at twelve, and it only wants fifteen minutes of that now." 

He lifted his hat and bowed to them, then turned away ; but 
the white-haired gentleman and the beautiful girl who stood 
looking after him saw the aged, dejected look return almost 
instantly to his face, and heard the heavy sigh that escaped his 


promise:' 311 

lips, telling of some fearful burden of care that was wearing 
his life away. 

‘"So you want me to help George Richards out of his trouble, 
do you, Star?'' Mr. Rosevelt said, on their way home, and his 
eyes rested fondly on the graceful figure sitting by his side, 
driving her pretty gray ponies. 

‘‘Perhaps it was presuming in me to ask you to do so, Uncle 
Jacob," Star answered, gravely, and flushing a vivid crimson; 
“but I feel very sorry for him. He was kind to me in many 
ways while I was living with his family, and but for him I 
should have been made a common servant." 

When George Richards was ushered into Jacob Rosevelt's 
luxurious and cozy dining-room that evening, where the table 
was laid with exquisite taste for three, his eyes lighted, and the 
look of care vanished as if by magic from his face. 

Three times after dessert Star made Mr. Richards let her fill 
his tiny cup with the delicious coffee; then she playfully told 
him that she should not give him any more, but if he would 
come into the library, she would try and see what she could do 
toward intoxicating him in some other way. 

“I have not forgotten how fond you are of music," she 
added, smiling, “and I want you to tell me if you do not think 
I have improved some since you last heard me play." 

She slipped her hand through his arm and led him into the 
library, while Mr. Rosevelt watched her with humorous eyes as 
she performed this labor of love. 

Seated at the piano, she whiled away another hour, making 
George Richards forget everything disagreeable, and appear the 
pleasant, genial gentleman whom she used to know. 

“ ‘Richard is almost himself again,' I think," she thought, 
with a happy little smile, as once, after a comic song which she 
sang to him, he leaned back in his chair and laughed long and 
heartily. 

But this could not go on forever, and finally Mr. Rosevelt 


312 


‘<7 promise:^ 


gradually led him to talk business, and asked him to tell him 
just what his trouble was. 

This changed everything, and he became at once the anxious, 
care-worn man again. 

“I do not like to trouble you. Uncle Jacob,'' he said, un- 
easily. ‘‘You have had your day of business, with all its cares 
and perplexities, without bothering your brain with those of 
other people. I m in a terrible muddle, it is true; but — I 
guess there will be some way out of it;" and there came into 
his eyes that same wild, desperate look which Star had noticed 
in the morning, and which made her shudder with a terrible 
fear. 

But Mr. Rosevelt insisted, and finally drew from him a true 
statement of facts. 

“lam sorry you are having such a hard time of it, George," 
he said, thoughtfully, when he had concluded. “ How much 
would it take to relieve you of your embarrassment.'^" 

Mr. Richards cast a startled look at the old gentleman at 
this question ; then, while a deep flush mounted to his brow, 
he said : 

“I can raise enough to meet all my present liabilities with 
ten thousand dollars. I have tried to borrow it everywhere, 
but everybody seems to have become suddenly shy of me for 
some reason, and I might as well be without a dollar in the 
world as without the whole amount If I cotild raise it, it 
would set me on my legs again, for my credit would be good, 
and, with care and patience, I believe I could retrieve my 
position.” 

Star almost held her breath while she waited for Mr. Rose- 
velt’s reply to this. 

To her infinite surprise, he turned to her. 

“My dear," he said, gently, “you shall return some of the 
kindness of which you told me this morning. I think you 
understand what I want you to do." 


“/ PROMISED 


313 


' He glanced as he concjuded toward the private drawer in his 
desk, where he always kept his check-book, and she knew that 
he wanted her to go and fill out a check for the amount that 
Mr. Richards had named. 

She arose, went to the desk, unlocked the drawer with trem- 
bling fingers, and drew forth the book. 

Opening it, she filled out a check, as she had often done for 
him during the last few months, then tearing it out, carried it 
to him, with a pen filled with ink. 

He turned it over and wrote his name on the back without a 
word, and then returned it to her to sign. 

She took it mechanically, but stood irresolute for a moment, 
looking at him, while her cheeks grew crimson. 

‘‘Give it to him, dear; it is to be your gift,” Mr. Rosevelt 
said, glancing at Mr. Richards, who sat staring at them both in 
blank amazement. 

A brilliant smile parted Star's red lips; she shot a grateful 
look at Uncle Jacob, and advancing to their visitor s side, laid 
the check down before him. 

One glance at the figures, and the overburdened man bowed 
his head upon the table with a groan. 

“I cannot take it! I cannot take it — and from you^ of all 
persons I" he said, brokenly. 

“Why not from her?” Mr. Rosevelt asked, huskily. “All 
that I have belongs to this dear girl, and, as I have told her 
many times, I live only to make her happy. She asked me to 
do this to-day after we had met you, because, she said, you had 
been kind to her in the past, and she longed to help you out 
of your trouble. So take it as her gift, my boy ; make the best 
use of it that you can, and welcome.” 

George Richards groaned again, while he reached forth and 
grasped the old man's hand, wringing it in silent gratitude, yet 
overwhelmed with shame and remorse as he remembered all 


3U 


PROMISE,^' 


that he and the fair-haired, gentle girl standing beside him had 
suffered while they were members of his family. 

He had no words of thanks to offer for this generous help in 
time of need, but if ever a world-weary heart was relieved of a 
burden too heavy to be borne, his was, when at length he folded 
that precious bit of paper and put it away for future use. 

When he arose to take his leave, he took both of Star's 
hands in his and drew her aside, where he could speak to 
her alone. 

“But for you," he said, in unsteady tones, “I should have 
been a ruined man a week hence. To tell you that I am 
ashamed to receive this gift from you does not express half what 
I feel, when I look back and remember your position in my 
family. But you have bestowed it so kindly and delicately that 
it would be churlish in me to refuse it; and you have taught 
me a lesson which, God helping me, I will never forget — a 
lesson of forgiveness and charity ; and no one in my house shall 
ever be treated unkindly again, no matter what their position 
may be," he concluded, with stern resolution. 

“Please forget all the past, Mr. Richards," Star returned, 
sweetly, but with evident embarrassment. “ I never entertained 
any feeling save that of gratitude and good-will toward you, for 
you proved yourself interested in my welfare in more instances 
than one while I was with you. But," she added, solemnly, 
while she clung tightly to his hands, and looked into his eyes 
with an expression which made them droop guiltily before her, 
“will you not promise me that, no matter how dark the future 
may be to you, no matter what trials or disappointments may 
come to you, you will never again meditate doing yourself an 
irreparable wrong?'' 

A streak of dusky red shot across the man's forehead, while 
his veins filled out hard and full. 

“Star," he stammered, “what do you mean? — what do you 
know?" 


“/ promise:' 


315 


You know what I mean. I read it in your eyes, I heard it 
in the tones of your voice this morning. But, oh ! my friend,” 
and her voice was full of tears, “remember that you are ‘bought 
with a price' — you are not your own. Promise me.” 

He raised her hands and kissed them reverently, and two 
hot tears rolled over his cheeks and dropped upon them in 
the act. 

“I promise,” he whispered, hoarsely. “My child, I should 
indeed have been ruined, body and soul, but for you. God 
bless you !” 

Star and Mr. Rosevelt followed him to the door as he went 
out, both trying to cheer him with kind wishes for the future. 

“Good-night and good-by,” the young girl said, in tones 
that sounded to him like an angel's voice, as she stood in the 
door- way. and watched him go down the steps. “Be sure to 
come and see us again when we return ; the latch-string is 
always out, as they say at the West, for our friends.” 

A mighty sob burst from the overcharged heart of George 
Richards as he reached the street, and the tears— tears of 
mingled remorse, gratitude, and relief— rolled thick and fast 
over his face. 

“Thank God,” he murmured, fervently, “for the light of 
that ‘star' in the midst of what was worse than Stygian dark- 
ness. But for its friendly beams and cheering influence, I 
should have been lost indeed.” 

He had proceeded some distance, when he stopped short and 
seemed about to retrace his steps. 

“How thoughtless of me!” he muttered, impatiently. “I 
meant to tell her all about Lord Carrol. He deserves to be set 
right with her, and she deserves — well, nothing can be too good 
for hery but they knocked everything out of my head by their 
unexampled generosity. I will not go back to-night,” he added, 
after thinking a moment; “I will write her to-morrow the 
whole story.” 


*'YOU ARE THE TRAITOR." 


316 

But the morrow brought its busy cares and perplexities, and 
his resolution was forgotten. After that it was too late, for he 
did not know where to address her during her absence ; and so 
Star still believed her lover to be false, and still mourned her 
shattered idol. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

‘‘you are the traitor.” 

Mr. Rosevelt, Star, and Grace Meredith, with good-natured 
Mrs. Blunt to attend to matters of comfort, started on the day 
appointed for their Western trip, full of bright anticipations of 
the pleasures in store for them ; and while they are gone, \^e 
will follow Ralph Meredith on his voyage across the Atlantic to 
the old world. 

Arriving in London, he transacted what business he had to 
do there, and then turned his attention, with what interest he 
could muster while his heart was still so sore from his recent 
disappointment, to the attractions which the great city afforded. 

He visited the House of Parliament, the Tower, St. Paul’s 
Cathedral, the National Gallery of Art, and many other points 
of interest, reserving Westminster Abbey until the last, as he 
wished to give plenty of time to this wonderful and magnificent 
structure and its countless curiosities. 

Upon his second visit thither, and while he was in the chapel 
of Henry the Seventh, with his guide, who was pointing out fcr 
his admiration the beauties of its architecture, the vaulted roof, 
with its magnificent carvings, and many precious relics gathered 
there, a clear, sweet voice suddenly broke the solemn stillness 
of the place by calling out just behind him ; 


**V017 ARE THE TRAITOR.** 


3^7 


“Why, Archie Sherbrooke, do you know what time it is? 
Quarter past eleven, and we promised Lady Dunham that we 
would be back in season to attend the rehearsal at the Albert 
Memorial Hall with her/' 

Ralph had thought that he was the only visitor there that 
morning, and that silvery voice speaking that name, which he 
remembered but too well, gave him a shock which sent the 
blood coursing like fire through his veins. 

“It is later than I thought, Vivien; we must go at once, if 
we keep that appointment," a rich, manly voice said in reply; 
and turning quickly to look at the speaker,* Ralph saw a tall, 
handsome young man of perhaps two or three-and-twenty, with 
the head of an Apollo, the form of an Adonis, and having a 
keen, intellectual face, with frank, truthful eyes, and a pleasant, 
winning smile. ^ 

The lady who accompanied, and who addressed him, was a 
year or two younger evidently, and almost as lovely as Star, 
Ralph thought, although her beauty was of a diflferent style. 

Archie Sherbrooke ! There surely could not be two young 
men of the same age, handsome as one of the gods, and bear- 
ing the same name. 

His heart had bounded into his throat as he heard it spoken, 
his face had flushed a painful crimson, while his hands in- 
stinctively clinched themselves in hot indignation, and he 
longed to confront the handsome traitor and denounce him for 
the villainous part he had played. 

This, then, must be the man who had broken Star Glad- 
stone s heart and ruined her life ; there was not a doubt of it 
in his own mind. 

Yes, he was sure this was the Archibald Sherbrooke of whom 
Star had told him. 

Who, then, was the woman who had been with him ? Was 
it his wife? 


3 *^ 


^*yOCr ARE THE traitor:* 


He did not think she was his sister, for, except in the color 
of her hair, she did not resemble him in the least. 

Were they Americans, and traveling, like himself, in the 
kingdom.?^ 

Perhaps, if they were married, they were thus spending the 
honeymoon; but they had spoken of ‘‘Lady Dunham'' in a 
way to make him doubt that they were his countrymen. 

Such thoughts as these tortured him, and he became pos- 
sessed to seek out the young man and discover if he were in- 
deed Star’s recreant lover. 

The young lady had spoken of a rehearsal at the Albert 
Hall. He knew there was to be a concert there that evening, 
and possibly it might be an outgrowth of the rehearsal. He 
would go and see. 

Accordingly, at the hour designated uponjhe bills, he went, 
armed with a powerful opera-glass, and procuring a conspicuous 
seat, he swept tier after tier of faces, searching for those which 
he had seen in the morning. 

But disappointment was the result of his efforts ; for that fair, 
girlish face was nowhere to be seen, nor could he find him who 
had been the young lady's attendant. 

Suddenly, however, a strangely sweet, bird-like voice, rising 
clear and full on the air, drew his attention to the stage, and 
there, with a thrill which tingled through every nerve, he saw 
the lovely girl for whom he was looking. 

Ralph Meredith sought for her name upon his programme, 
which stated that the concert was given, under the auspices of 
some of the nobility, for some charitable object, and that the 
talent was all amateur. 

“ Miss Vivien Sherbrooke," he read, and he again experienced 
that sudden heart-throb. 

She was not, then, Archibald Sherbrooke's wife, but, in all 
probability, his sister. 

He listened intently throughout her song ; and then, as the 


ARE THE TRAITOR V 


319 


sweet voice died away, and she turned to leave the stage, he 
leaned breathlessly forward to watch her, while thunders of 
applause went rolling up into the heights above him. 

She came back again after a moment, slightly flushed at 
the encore, but in a graceful, modest way, and sang a simple 
ballad. 

She was as sweet and charming as she could be, and when 
at length she ceased and went away again, Ralph Meredith 
heard a long-drawn breath, as of relief, directly behind him, 
while a voice said : 

believe Vivien never sang so well before; but I am glad 
that part of the programme is over.” 

“Yes,” replied deeper, but more familiar tones; “I was a 
trifle anxious myself, although I know she never fails in what 
she undertakes. Vivien is a jewel !” 

“ You are right, Archie. So is my son ; and I am surprised 
that, at your age, some one has not won you both away from 
me,” returned the lady, in suppressed, but fond and playful 
tones. 

“You are not anxious to get rid of either of us, I hope, 
mother.?” 

“No, indeed; and yet it would be expected in the natural 
course of events; and with so many fair maidens and gallant 
young gentlemen playing the agreeable to me, I cannot but feel 
some curiosity as to who will eventually get my treasures.” 

There was no reply to this speech, but Ralph was sure he 
heard a sigh. 

After a few moments he turned and ran his eye with seeming 
carelessness over the sea of faces behind him, glancing at those 
two to whose conversation he had just been listening. 

It was even as he had surmised when he heard that manly 
voice. 

Archibald Sherbrooke sat directly behind him, and beside 
him a noble, matronly looking woman whom he closely re- 


320 


<*Y0U ARE THE TRAITOR,^' 


sembled ; but there was an unmistakable look of pain upon 
the young man's face, and a wistful, anxious look in his hand- 
some eyes. 

“Not married, after all this time, and with that sorrowful 
face and bitter sigh. I begin to think there may have been a 
misunderstanding of some kind, instead of a willful wrong/' 
he said to himself. “He does not look like a man to prove 
treacherous to a woman," he added ; “there is something noble 
and prepossessing about him ; and yet Star said she denounced 
him to his face." 

When the concert was over, and while he was slowly passing 
out with the crowd, some one at his side suddenly exclaimed : 

“Halloa, Meredith! where on earth did you come from?" 
and a friendly hand grasped and shook his with a vigorous 
cordiality. 

“ Alden I is it you.?" he cried, in return. “I might ask the 
same question of you, since I had not a thought of seeing you 
here ; but since it is evident that we are both Americans, it is 
safe to assume that we came from ^over the seas and far 
away. ' " 

“When did you arrive.? Where are you stopping, and how 
long do you stay in London?" demanded Alden, his tongue 
going like a race-horse. 

“Well," Ralph returned, laughing, “you mean to know all 
about me, I see. I arrived a week ago yesterday; I am stopping 
at the Midland Grand, and my stay is — indefinite." 

“Good! but now I have found you, I mean to keep an eye 
upon you. I tell you it sets a fellow up wonderfully to see a 
home-face. Have you any other engagement for this evening?" 
“No." 

“Then come with me I have an invitation to Lady Stam- 
field's reception — and, by the by, she does entertain charmingly 
— with permission to bring as many friends as I choose. Come ; 


'^YOU ARE THE TRAITOR.^* 


321 

my lady is a delightful hostess, besides having two of the love- 
liest daughters in the world/' 

“Such an inducement as the latter I am unable to resist," 
Ralph responded, with a smile. “I will come with pleasure." 

“ You’re a sensible fellow, ’ replied young Alden, as, linking 
his arm familiarly in that of his friend, he led him away. 

Ralph found Stamfield House a delightful place. Lady Stam- 
field all, and more, than Herbert Alden had promised him in 
the way of a hostess, and the Misses Stamfield, young ladies of 
eighteen and twenty, pretty and talented, and entertaining 
enough to make an hour or two pass very agreeably. 

He was very cordially received upon being presented by his 
friend, and introduced to a number of pleasant people, and he 
began to think that he had not seen the best side of London 
after all, since he had not heretofore been favorably impressed 
with its citizens. 

After he had danced two or three times, young Alden sought 
him again, and took him away to the billiard-room, which, for 
that evening, had been set apart for a smcking-room. 

“ I want to introduce you to some fine fellows," he said, on 
the way thither, “ ‘bang up’ boys, we should say in America, 
who will give you a good time while you stay here." 

He found a dozen or twenty young men gathered in the 
billiard ro 3m, and was introduced to several of them by his 
friend. 

He spent half an hour very pleasantly there, and then began 
to think that it was time that he was getting back to his hotel, 
for it was a long distance from that portion of the city. 

He stood by the billiard-table alone for a moment, waiting 
to bid young Alden good-night, when suddenly he heard his 
voice at his elbow, introducing him to “Lord Carrol, of 
Carrol ton." 

He half put out his hand, glanced up at the stranger, started. 


322 


^^YOU ARE THE TRAITOR.** 


withdrew it, and bowed stiffly to his lordship. He had recog- 
nized Archibald Sherbrooke 1 

The fine, genial face of the young peer clouded at the act 
and his cool greeting ; but, with his natural good-breeding, he 
appeared not to heed it, and expressed his pleasure at the 
meeting; while Alden, the introduction over, turned away, 
leaving them together. 

beg your pardon,'' Ralph said, the hot blood mounting 
to his brow, for his loyal heart could not forget Star and her 
wrongs, ‘‘I have heard you addressed twice to-day by another 
name — Archibald Sherbrooke. Has my friend made a mistake 
in introducing you to me as Lord Carrol ?" 

His lordship laughed, and his face cleared instantly. 

“ No," he said ; “ I am both Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord 
Carrol. I am troubled with a plurality of names, which fre- 
quently cause mistakes, some of which are ludicrous, and 
some — painful." 

This last statement was supplemented with a heavy sigh. 

‘‘But," he added, more lightly, “I will shake hands with 
you over either," and he extended his hand again. 

But Ralph would not take it. 

He drew back a step, and bent a perplexed look upon his 
companion's face. 

“ Pardon me again," he said ; “but before I take your hand, 
allow me to ask you a single question." 

“Certainly; a dozen if you like," Lord Carrol answered, 
haughtily, for Ralph's refusal to take his hand had hurt him 
keenly. 

“You have been in America?" 

“Yes." 

“You met there a young lady by the name of Miss Stella 
Gladstone 

Lord Carrol started as from a sudden shock, and grew pale 
to his lips. 


**VOU- ARE THE TRAITORS 


323 

Stella Gladstone ! What can you tell me of Star Gladstone?’' 
he demanded, hoarse from emotion. 

“That her heart is broken — her life ruined," Ralph Meredith 
answered, sternly, for he knew now that he had found his man, 
and he meant to show him no mercy. 

He trembled with excitement, and his fingers ached to 
strangle the villain and coward who had so basely betrayed the 
trust of the loveliest woman on earth. 

“ Her life ruined I Dont tell me that, "Lord Carrol whispered, 
with white lips, while the look of agony which leaped to his 
eyes would have moved the hardest heart, had it been less sore 
than Ralph Meredith's. 

“Yes, and you are the traitor who is accountable for it," he 
answered, • hotly. 

The young man flushed, and he drew himself up with sud- 
den dignity, struggling to regain his self-possession, which had 
been sadly disturbed at the mention of that dearly loved name. 

“You forget yourself, sir," he said, haughtily. “What right 
hdiVQ you to address me thus? Why do you speak to me in this 
way of Miss Gladstone, and arraign me for what you assert?" 

“Why should I not?"' Ralph Meredith demanded, in low, 
fierce tones. “Did she not tell me with her own lips of your 
baseness and treachery ? And do you think that I can take the 
hand of the man, were he twice a lord, who has ruined the life 
of" — “the only woman whom I ever loved," he was about to 
add, but something restrained him and made him substitute — 
“an angel?" 

Archibald Sherbrooke was very pale now. He w’as a proud, 
brave young man, and all the hot blood in his composition 
had been aroused by this sudden and unexpected attack from 
the stranger to whom he had been introduced by a mutual 
friend. 

He had uttered words which, under any other circumstances, 


324 


^^YOU ARE THE TRAITOR:^ 


would have made him fell him to the ground and chastise him 
for his insolence. 

But he controlled himself, for he saw that Ralph was a noble 
fellow, although he had constituted himself the champion of 
the woman whom he still loved with a deathless love, and 
meant to avenge her wrongs it he was assured that he had found 
the right man. 

He reasoned, too, that he must be laboring under the same 
mistake of which Star had been the victim, and that the only 
way to deal with him would be to explain just how matters 
stood. 

Besides, a wild hope was springing up in his heart that 
through him he might be able to find her whom he had lost, 
and whom he never ceased for one moment to love. 

He laid his hand on Ralph's arm, and the young man felt it 
tremble with the emotion which thrilled him. 

“Come with me," he said, in a low, earnest voice, “where 
we can be by ourselves, and I will talk this matter over with 
you. There has been a terrible mistake, and my two names 
have been the cause of it all. I loved Star Gladstone devotedly; 
I love her to-day. I have done her no wrong, as I will explain 
to you, and nothing would have kept me from her side if she 
had not hid herself from me. Come." 

He linked his arm familiarly within Ralph’s, and drew him 
from the room to a small antechamber leading from the hall, 
and shut the door, while the young man was dumb with 
astonishment at what he heard, and betfan to feel as if he had 
got himself into a very unpleasant predicament by his rashness. 


MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 


325 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 

^‘Have / made a mistake Have I wronged you.^*’' Ralph 
Meredith asked, when the door was shut, while he gazed 
blankly at his companion, and feeling convinced in his heart 
that no man could show the emotion which Lord Carrol mani- 
fested at the mention of Star, and willfully betray her. 

‘‘If 1 were not confident that you had made a mistake,” his 
lordship returned, drawing himself up with dignity, though he 
was still very pale and deeply agitated — “if I did not believe 
that you share in the misunderstanding which, has been the 
cause of all Miss Gladstones trouble and my own exceeding 
sorrow, I could not pass lightly over the disparaging imputation 
which you have cast upon me to-night. I am no traitor, Mr. 
Meredith. I have never willingly wronged Miss Gladstone, for 
I have loved her, and 1 do love her to-day, with a deathless 
love. My plurality of names, as I told you before,” he went 
on, with a wan smile, “has been the cause of it all; and if 
Star has unconsciously been made a victim on account of it, I 
also have suffered in no small degree. Sit down, Mr. Mere- 
dith, and let me tell you all about it;” and he motioned him 
to a chair. 

“Not until I have apologized for my rash words to you, my 
lord,” Ralph said, in a manly, straightforward way, and ad- 
vancing to him, convinced now of his honor, and that he had 
never intended Star even a thought of harm. “ ]\Iiss Gladstone,” 
he continued, “confided the story of her grief to me only a 
short time before I sailed for Europe, al:hough she did not 
enter into particulars very minutely. I think she had not the 


326 


MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS, 


slightest idea that I should ever meet you, but I made up my 
mind at the time that if I ever did come in contact with 
‘Archibald Sherbrooke,’ which was the only name by which 
she designated you, that I should make him answer for the 
wrong which I believed he had done her. I saw you to-day 
with a lady in the chapel of Henry the Seventh, at Westminster 
Abbey. I heard her call you by the name that I remembered 
only too well, and was convinced I had found P/iiss Gladstones 
recreant knight. I resolved at once to remain in London 
beyond the time I had originally intended, look you up, and 
call you to account for what you had done. You were at the 
concert in the Albert Hall this evening, but I had no thought 
of meeting you when I came hither, at the invitation of my 
friend Alden. You can imagine, perhaps, something of the 
shock which I experienced when he introduced you as Lord 
Carrol. This will explain why I refused your hand, and why I 
addressed you in the way I did.'' 

“ I cannot blame you in the least, under the circumstances," 
Lord Carrol returned, smiling. 

“Your words, however," Ralph went on, “regarding the 
young lady in question, convince me that you are entirely 
guiltless, and have been as great a sufferer from an unfortunate 
misunderstanding as herself. I trust you will accept my ex- 
planation, and also my hand with it," he concluded, extending 
his hand to the young peer. 

Lord Carrol grasped and shook it warmly. 

“I have no right to harbor any ill-will toward you for 
espousing so gallantly the cause of one who is very dear to 
me," he said, cordially; “and perhaps, after all, this meeting, 
which at first promised to end in a stormy manner, may be the 
means of restoring happiness to two very unhappy people." 

“I feel assured that such will be the case," Ralph answered, 
but there was a keen pain in his heart, notwithstanding. 

liOrd Carrol now wheeled a chair forward and made him sit 


MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 


327 


down ; then, taking another near him, he related in substance 
what he had already told Mr. Richards regarding his relations 
with Star, the erroneous conclusions she had jumped at upon 
learning of his title, her refusal to allow him to explain his 
position to her, and her flight on the morning after her painful 
discovery. 

Ralph Meredith found it hard to conceal the bitterness which 
he experienced, as he realized how gladly Star would give her- 
self to her manly lover when she learned of his fidelity. His 
heart was still sore over his recent disappointment, but his 
nature was too noble, he was too generous in his love for her, 
to wish to place a single obstacle in the way of her happiness, 
or of the man whom he now deemed worthy of her in every 
respect. 

He gave Lord Carrol a history of Star’s life during the last 
year, telling him of her success as a young authoress, and of 
the happy change in her worldly circumstances as the acknowl- 
edged ward and heiress of Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire. He 
spoke also of the admiration which her grace and beauty had 
excited during the past season at Newport. 

“I am glad,” Archibald Sherbrooke said, earnestly, and his 
lip trembled as he spoke, ‘‘that her life has been made so 
much brighter during the past year, and I shall always be grate- 
ful to Mr. Rosevelt for his kindness; and yet I am almost 
selfish enough to wish that / could have been the one to raise 
her to a more congenial sphere. I shall go to the United 
States at once. I must seek her and set myself right with her 
as soon as possible. Will you be so good as to give me Mr. 
Rosevelt s address.?” 

“With pleasure,” Ralph responded ; “but you will not find 
them in New York just at present, for they, with my sister — 
who is a very intimate friend of Miss Gladstone’s — are traveling 
in the far West, and will not return under three or four 
months.” 


328 


MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 


Lord Carrol looked thoughtful and disappointed at this in- 
telligence. 

“I must wait, then,” he said, with a sigh, “until their re- 
turn. The time will seem very long, although I am greatly 
needed here just now, and it would be much to my own dis- 
advantage were I to leave before my affairs are in a more settled 
state; but I should let no pecuniary consideration deter me 
from going to Star if I was sure 1 should find her. However, 
I must submit to the inevitable; and now, Mr. Meredith,” he 
concluded, with a genial smile, “what can 1 do to make your 
sta\ in our city pleasant? I am at your disposal for any length 
of time.” 

“Thank you, my lord. My business will not permit my 
tarrying much longer just now; but I intend to return to Lon- 
don in the course of three or four months, and shall hope to 
meet you again then,” Ralph answered. 

“I shall most certainly see to it that we do meet again,” 
Lord Carrol returned; “and now, if you have no engagement 
for to-morrow, will you do me the honor to dine with me?” 

“It will give me great pleasure to do so. I have no other 
engagement,’’ Mr. Meredith returned. 

He w’as growing to admire Star Gladstone’s handsome lover 
exceedingly, notw'ithstanding the fact that he was his own rival. 

“Thanks. Now come wdth me and let me introduce you to 
my mother and sister, who are both here at Stam field House; 
and, Mr. Meredith,” the young lord added, grasping his hand 
again, and speaking with emotion, “I cannot be sufficiently 
grateful to you, for you have put new life and hope into my 
heart to-night.” 

Ralph tried to feel generously glad for this, but it was not in 
human nature not to experience a pang over the happiness 
which he knew was in store for him, especially when he knew, 
too, that it would be at the expense of his own. 


MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS, 


•329 

‘‘I am very glad if I have been able to atone in any way for 
my rudeness upon first meeting you,” he saio, smiling laintly. 

“ Do not mention it; you were espousing a good cause, and 
through your championship I shall regain what is far dearer to 
me than life ; so we will forget the unpleasantness of a moment, 
and 1 trust I may call you rny friend in the future.” 

Lord Carrol then led the way back to Lady Stamfield s draw- 
ing-room, where, seeking his mother and sister, he presented 
his new friend to them. 

Mrs. Sherbrooke Ralph found to be a handsome, genial 
matron, with a large heart and plenty of Christian charity, 
although it was plainly to be seen that her two children, in her 
estimation, were perfect in every respect. 

No one ever before possessed a more noble and devoted son ; 
no one had so charming a daughter. 

Miss Vivien Sherbrooke was truly that ; she was even more 
beautiful than she had appeared to be when he saw her on the 
stage in the character of a songstress. 

She was vivacious and witty, and exerted herself to the utmost 
to be entertaining to her brother’s new acquaintance, and Ralph 
actually forgot himself and the haunting pain which had hitherto 
pursued him during all his wanderings, while talking with her 
and listening to her bright conversation, and watching her 
quick, graceful motions. 

‘‘Archie tells me that you are coming to dine with us to- 
morrow, Mr. Meredith,” she said, as her mother came to tell 
her that it was time for them to go. 

“Yes, I believe I am to have that pleasure,” he returned, 
with a glance of admiration into her sparkling eyes. 

“lam glad, for I have a hundred questions to ask you about 
America which only a true American can answer. You will be 
sure to come?” 

“I certainly shall,” he replied, thinking that those clear gray 


330 


MRS. RICHARDS^ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 


eyes, looking so frankly and smilingly into his, were about as 
beautiful as any he had ever seen. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

MRS. RICHARDS’ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

The following day Mr. Meredith, according to his promise, 
went to dine with Lord Carrol at his mother’s elegant mansion 
near Belgrave Square. 

After the meal was over, and the other guests comfortably 
disposed of, Archie took his friend up into the ‘^sanctum,” as 
he called it, for a smoke and a quiet talk. 

If Lord Carrol suspected anything of the feeling which Ralph 
had entertained for Star, he gave no sign, but confided to him, 
as they sat there together, more of his hopes and plans for the 
future, and spoke with much more of freedom regarding Star 
than he had done the day before. 

When they had finished their cigars'. Lord Carrol arose 
and said : 

“Come inside, Mr. Meredith, and I will show you one of 
my treasures.” 

He went back into his “sanctum,” followed by Ralph, and 
passing by all the beautiful paintings, drawings, and engravings 
which hung upon the walls, he walked to an easel which stood 
in a corner, and removing a cloth that covered it, stepped back 
for his friend to look. 

Ralph Meredith gave one look, and then exclaimed, in un- 
feigned surprise : 

“Star!” 


MRS. RICHARDS^ GREAT EXRECTA T/OMS. 331 

‘*Yes, it is Star/' Lord Carrol said, with a tender smile, as 
he looked upon the portrait. am glad you recognize her, 
for I should be sorry if she had changed so much that you 
could not. This is a picture which I love, and which I keep 
for myself alone. It is very seldom that I show it to any one, 
and I have never told its history to any living being until I told 
it to you last night. As she stood there that morning in her 
modest beauty, severing that tress at my request, I began to 
love her with a love that will never die while I live. I have that 
little lock of gold here now, Mr. Meredith," he said, touching 
the diamond-studded locket which hung from his watch-chain, 
‘‘and untold wealth could not purchase it from me. Here is 
the cameo also which I gave her in exchange, and of which I 
told you, too, last night," and he held up his left hand, on the 
little finger of which gleamed the ring that Josephine Richards 
had made of it “Ah," he added, with a sigh, “it is hard to 
think that she could believe me so false — so treacherous and 
cowardly, as to win her love and then cast it aside as of no 
value. 

“Yet it was very natural for her to think so under the cir- 
cumstances," Ralph returned, thoughtfully. “You must realize 
that yourself, for you say that on Saturday you declared your 
affection for her under the name of Archibald Sherbrooke, and 
won an expression of her own for you in return ; while on the 
Monday following you appeared in Mr. Richards' family as Lord 
Carrol, who, she had been told, was a suitor for his daughter's 
hand. It does not seem strange to me that she should think 
the very worst of you. You certainly were in a false position 
before her, and it must have been a severe blow to her pride as 
well as to her affection ; for, as we have seen. Miss Gladstone is 
not lacking either in self-respect or spirit." 

“No, I suppose it is not strange; but, oh ! if she would but 
have given me one minute, I could have convinced her of her 
mistake, and all the sorrow that has followed might have been 


332 MRS, RICHARDS^ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

avoided/' sighed the young lord, as, with another fond glance 
at the picture, he covered it again and turned av;ay. 

“You will be more successful when you go to her again," 
Ralph said, cheerfully. 

“Yes," Archie returned, with firmly compressed lips; “Miss 
Gladstone will listen to me when I go to her again. It is but 
right that she should hear my justification, whether she receives 
it iavorably or otherwise." 

“I have no fear ol the result," his guest returned, smiling; 
“for Miss Gladstone acknowledged to me that, in spite of her 
belief in your unworthiness, her affection for you remained 
the same." 

A flush of joy shot over Lord Carrol's face at this. 

‘ Did she tell you that?" he asked, eagerly. “Then I will 
doubt no more; and 1 have you to thank for bestowing such 
happiness upon me as 1 never expected to know again." 

'rhey spent a half hour longer looking at other pictures, but 
sw^eet sounds coming up agam from the drawing-room dis- 
tracted Ralph s attention and tempted him below. 

“Do I not hear the fair songstress of last night again?'* he 
asked. 

“Yes, that is Vivien singing," replied her brother. 

“I am very fond of music; shall w^e rejoin the company?" 

They went down, and, seeking the fair Vivien's side, Ralph 
Meredith spent a most debghtful evening, the memory of which 
clung to him for many a week afterward. 

The next morning he left London for a three-months' tour 
through Scotland, Ireland, and the Continent 

iHi ^ ^ 

Mrs. Richards sat in her hancc^ome boudoir one morning a 
few w'eeks later, reading a newspaper. 

Something had evidently gone wrong wdth her, for her face 
was overcast, an angry red glowed in her cheeks, and her eyes 
gleamed with a sullen fire. 


MRS, RICHARDS' GRFAT EXPECTATIONS, 


333 


The reason for this was the flat refusal, on the part of Mr. 
Richards, to accede to her immoderate demand for five hundred 
dollars, to purchase for herself and Josephine new dresses for 
the coming winter, and she had just returned to her room afier 
the stormy interview. 

‘‘ I cannot let you have a dollar, he had said, with a gravity 
almost amounting to sternness, “for I haven’t it to spare.'' 

“ Not a dollar, George!" she retorted, with a scornful laugh. 
“Who ever heard of anything so absurd?" 

“It is true, nevertheless," he answered, gloomily. “Two 
months ago I expected that to-day would find us all beggars." 

“What do you mean?" his wife gasped. 

“Just what I say; and but for the appearance of a friendly 
hand just when and where I least expected it, I should have 
been obliged to fail, overwhelmed with debt and disgrace, and 
everything we have — house, furniture, horses, and carriages — 
would all have had to come under the hammer of the auc- 
tioneer. " 

“ I cannot believe it," Mrs. Richards said, growing pale. 

“That does not alter the fact, however,*' her husband replied, 
laconically. 

“Why did you not tell me?" 

“I did tell you. I kept writing to you when you were at 
Newport, Ellen, that I could not long endure such a drain upon 
my purse as you were subjecting it to, and that you must cur- 
tail your expenses; but you paid no heed to me, launching 
instead into greater extravagances." 

“But I never dreamed that things were so serious as you 
represented," she said, a guilty flush; fridufltt|i^'fe>'heV forebeadi^ 
as she remembered that'albbeT^lavifehness^hfadii^en ^tb'dut^hinel 
Star. “ I never thought yob were'reaU;yiemba'rras^d;'dr‘I^)uld 
not have asked for so inuchi'''^bnoo lo ooivbr, elJtif yiov no’{ ovig 

“Well, then,' hoianswered;i in< al geTitlet^'^tonejMisbow 
consideration fopiin^'ROW,! ibriyod ahd^Jjokephinie %ill 


334 RICHARDS' GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

wear your old clothes this winter. My trouble has been tided 
over for the present through the kindness of a friend, but it will 
require great care and calculation on my part to keep my head 
above board even now. I shall have to begin cautiously, or I 
shall be back again in the slough of despond.” 

‘‘But I do not see how we can get along without some new 
things,” began Mrs. Richards, selfishly. 

“You must; that is all there is about it,” returned her hus- 
band, positively. “If you can’t go into society and wear what 
you have, then you must stay at home this winter; and I do 
not think it would do you any harm for once, either.” 

Mrs. Richards flushed angrily. When she saw her husband 
in this mood, she knew there was no turning him, and she 
would be obliged to submit to his edict. 

“I’m sure I do not see what can have happened to make 
you so penurious all of a sudden,” she said, sullenly. 

“Penurious! Oh, Ellen I” 

He looked at her yearningly for a moment. 

She was a handsome, distinguished-looking woman, and had 
been a very fond and tender wife during the first years of 
their married life; but unlimited indulgence, and constantly 
mingling in the fashionable world, had made her selfish and 
unfeeling. 

“My dear,” he went on, after a moment, “why cannot you 
comfort me a little — give me a little sympathy in my trouble? 
My burden has been very hard to bear alone, and the worst of 
it has been that I was obliged to refuse your requests. You 
know that npt^j:^Uf|ous — that I never denied you any- 

aeant you. Ellen, I wish you could 
been of late.” 

matters; I could 

give you very little advice or comfbnK jnrt^iat way,” she replied, 
Wmif^i0faJ«fery>,miserable, and in 
frameui)f,'i*i.ii»dfdaQr3elf, and not a 


MRS, RICHARDS^ GREAT EXRECTA T/OMS. 335 

little startled to know that they had been so near the brink of 
ruin as he had represented. 

She returned to her own room, picking up the morning 
paper, which lay upon the hall table, on her way. Sitting 
down, she ran her eye carelessly over its columns, while her 
mind was busy planning some way to get along without her 
accustomed full purse, and “keep up appearances.'' 

Suddenly her glance was transfixed by a paragraph which sent 
sharp, prickling pains throughout her body, and every nerve 
quivered with excitement as she read : 

“The heirs, or nearest of kin to Sir Charles Thornton, late of Halowell 
Park, Devonshire, England, will find it to their advantage to communicate 
at once with Compton & Bailey, No. 54 Lincoln’s-inn-fields, London.” 

Just below this advertisement was a notice of the sudden 
death of the young baronet from diphtheria. 

Mrs. Richards sat like one overcome by some violent shock 
for a few moments after reading this account. Then springing 
to her feet, and taking the paper with her, she went back in 
hot haste to her husband, her cheeks crimson, her eyes glowing 
with agitation. 

“If what I suspect should prove to be true, the dream of my 
life will be realized. Sir George and Lady Richards would 
sound very well, indeed," she murmured as she went. 

Her husband looked up as she entered, and she was startled 
as she noticed how pale and care-worn his face had become ; 
but she was too eager to communicate her news to pay much 
heed to it. 

“George," she said, eagerly, “read this !" 

She laid the paper before him as she spoke^ and pointed to 
the paragraph which had excited her so. 

“ Well, I have read it, but I do not understand it; I do not 
know anything about Sir Charles Thornton, " he returned, in- 
differently. 

“What are you thinking of, George Richards!" cried his 


336 RICHARDS^ GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

wife, impatiently. mother was half-sister to Sir Charles 

Thornton’s mother. Sir Charles had no family; there are no 
other relatives to be found cn either side, it seems, or his 
lawyers would not have advertised thus, and 1 believe that / am 
‘the nearest of kin.'” 

“Nonsense, Ellen ! Don’t get such a wild idea as that into 
your head, for you wdll surely be disappointed,” Mr. Richards 
answered, skeptically. 

“I don't know about that. But one thing I have long, 
known, and that is that the Thornton branch of the family is 
nearly, if not quite, extinct. It is evident that no heirs are to 
be found in England, or Compton & Bailey would not have 
advertised in the United States papers,” she returned, feeling 
more and more sure in her own mind that her first impressions 
had not been at fault. 

“That is a good argument, truly,” Mr. Richards said, with 
sudden interest, and then began to question his wife, and to 
examine more closely into the matter. 

The result was that the next steamer bore a long letter to 
Compton & Bailey, No. 54 Lincoln’s-inn-fields, stating Mis. 
Richards' relationship to Sir Charles Thornton, of Halowell 
Park, Devonshire, together with proofs of what they asserted. 

A month passed, and they had begun to think they had been 
nourishing a chimera, when, one day, there came an answer 
from Compton & Bailey, saying that they had faithfully studied 
the chronological tables of both sides of the Thornton family, 
and had arrived at the conclusion that Mrs. Richards was un- 
doubtedly the nearest of kin to the late Sir Charles. 

They stated that they had been advertising for a long time in 
English papers, and no one had presented any claim. They 
had then concluded to publish a similar notice in the American 
papers, and as it had met with no other response, they would 
undoubtedly decide the matter in favor of her. 

However, they suggested that she come to London at once. 


yosEPmxE^s amb/t/om 


337 

ds they could conclude better what to do after a personal in- 
terview. 

“If it should prove a ‘wild-goose chase/ as I fear it will, I 
can ill afford the expense of the trip,” Mr. Richards said, when 
considering the question. 

But liis wife was all enthusiasm, as well as very sanguine 
regarding the result, and it was at length decided that they 
should sail as soon as practicable, and preparations were at once 
begun for the voyage. 

Mrs. Richards merely remarked to her friends, when inform- 
ing them of their plans, that Mr. Richards was not well ; they 
all wanted a change, and had lesolved to try what a trip across 
the Atlantic would do for them. Not one word was breathed 
regarding her expectations, however. 

“ If I am successful, there will be time enough then to make 
it public ; if I am not, no one shall ever be able to crow over 
my disappointment,” she said, cautiously, to her husband; 
although in her ONvn mind she had not a doubt as to the issue 
of the matter, while already visions of a title and a life among 
the nobility of England, presentation at court, and a marriage 
in high lile for Josephine, were taking shape in her head. 


CHAPTER XXXVL 
Josephine's ambition, 

Mrs. Richards' vision of magnificence bade fair to be realized ; 
for, upon arriving in London in November, she and her family 
were most courteously received by the firm of Compton & Bailey, 
who assured her that her credentials and proofs of her relation- 
ship to Sir Charles were incontestable. 


338 


JOSEPHINE'S AMBITION 


‘‘I do not see, madam, anything to prevent you from taking 
possession of the property,” Mr. Compton said, in his most 
affable tones. ‘‘Your identity is proved beyond a question as 
the cousin or half-cousin of Sir Charles, and, as far as we have 
been able to learn, you are the only living relative. Lord 
William Thornton — Sir Charles' father — had a younger brother, 
but he left his home years ago to go as a missionary to the 
heathen, and has never been heard of since ; so it is reasonable 
to suppose that he also is dead, and, as he was unmarried, of 
course left no issue. It will take a month or so to get things 
in order for you, and if at the end of that time everything 
remains as it is now, you can then take possession of your 
estate, and I am very happy to offer my congratulations upon 
your good fortune.” 

Mrs. Richards' face glowed with pride and happiness; Jose- 
phine was jubilant, while Mr. Richards was too astonished to 
be able to really appreciate this sudden turning of fortune's 
wheel in their favor. 

1 he rent-roll of Halowell Park was fifty thousand pounds or 
more per annum ; then there was a fine residence in London, 
and a sea-side resort at Cowes. 

It was, indeed, a fortune, coming just at that time of need, 
calculated to turn one's head, so to speak. 

“ It is too good to be true,” Mr. Richards said, with a doubt- 
ful shake of the head. “Ellen, we don’t deserve any such good 
fortune,” he added, remorsefully, as his mind went back to 
their treatment of Mr. Rosevelt and Star. 

“Nonsense, George!” she retorted, scornfully. “We deserve 
whatever we can get, and I mean to enjoy this windfall to the 
utmost. I reckon that jade will find it hard work to outshine 
us after this, and Uncle Jacob's grand airs won’t trouble me 
in the least in the future. I shall go down to Halowell Park 
this week, see for myself what kind of a place it is, and what 
repairs and improvements are needed on the estate,” she con- 


JOSEPHINE'S AMBITION 


339 

eluded, ready to spend money with her accustomed energy and 
lavishness. 

Accordingly, in a few days they repaired thither, and were 
charmed with the grand old place. 

On their return to London they visited the late Sir Charles' 
town house, and found that in keeping with the estate in Devon- 
shire, and surely their prospects appeared to be as bright as they 
or any one could wish. 

One evening Mr. Compton, the lawyer, who was one of the 
first among his profession in the city, invited them to his 
mansion to meet some of his friends, and they were introduced 
to a number of people who frequented the highest circles in 
the great city. 

Among others', they met "Lady Sherbrooke and her charming 
daughter, Vivien, and who, they were not long in discovering, 
greatly to their joy, were the mother and sister of Lord Carrol. 

Mrs. Richards was exultant over this piece of good luck, as 
she deemed it, and tried to make herself very agreeable to her 
ladyship, while Josephine sought to ingratiate herself with the 
younger lady. 

“I had the pleasure of meeting your son. Lord Carrol, when 
he was in America,” Mrs. Richards remarked, during her con- 
versation with the young lord's mother. 

‘‘Indeed !" she said, looking interested at once, for her chil- 
dren were an all-absorbing topic at any time with her. 

“Yes; we first met him at Long Branch, a fashionable 
watering-place, and he afterward favored us with a visit of a few 
days at our country-seat, in Yonkers." 

Mrs. Richards was determined to make the most out of the 
advantages she had enjoyed. 

“Ah, yes, I believe he has told me something about it," the 
lady responded, while she thought that if such was the case she 
must arrange in some way to return the compliment thus paid 
to her idolized son. 


340 


JOSEPHINE^ S AMBITION, 


If they were successors to Sir Charles Thornton, they would 
occupy no mean position in the social world, she reasoned, and 
it would be no more than right to cultivate their acquaintance, 
while she could but acknowledge that Mrs. Richards was quite 
a superior appearing woman, and Josephine possessed beauty 
of a very brilliant tvpe. 

The half hour that she spent conversing with Mrs. Richards 
only served to strengthen the good opinion she had at first 
formed, and before they left Mr. Compton's she had arranged 
with them to spend a portion of the following week at their 
estate in Cheshire. 

This WcS more than Mrs. Richards had expected, but she 
plumed herself upon her tact in managing things so cleverly, 
and looked forward to the visit with no small amount of 
interest. 

The next day, through Lady Sherbrooke's influence, she re- 
ceived cards for a grand reception at Lady Tukesbury s. who 
resided in a palatial mansion in Piccadilly, and she felt assured 
that they were now fully launched upon a brilliant career. 

Of course they accepted the invitation, she appearing in black 
velvet, point lace, and diamonds, while Josephine was resplen- 
dent in rich white silk and scarlet verbenas, and created quite a 
sensation in “ Japonica-dom," greatly to her mother's delight 
and her own satisfaction. 

‘‘Who is she.? Where did she come from?" was whispered 
on all sides. 

“An American? Ah! that accounts for her brilliant style 
of beauty, then. Inherit Sir Charles Thornton estates, do they? 
In that case they will be quite an acquisition to society," were 
the opinions expressed and the conclusions arrived at by people 
who were careful in such matters ; and then seekers for intro- 
ductions — and seekers for fortunes — pressed forward for an in- 
troduction to the beautiful young heiress. 

But notwithstanding Josephine enjoyed herself, and felt no 


JOSEPHINE^ S AMBITION. 


341 


small des^ree of pride at receiving these attentions from lords 
and baronets, she found herself looking everywhere for one 
familiar form, one dark, handsome face, which she had never 
forgotten, and which she knew she should recognize anywhere 
and under any circumstances. 

“ INIamma, I wonder if Lord Carrol is here.?’' she whispered, 
when once during the evening they happened to be together. 

‘*I don’t know; I will ask Lady Sherbrooke if I have an 
opportunity," she replied. 

She managed to get near her ladyship soon after, and asked : 

“ Is your son out of town, Lady Sherbrooke?" 

“No; he is not out of town. He had another engagement 
to-night, but he said he would drop in in season to take us 
home," Lord Carrol’s mother returned. “ Ah ! there he is now," 
.she added, as she saw him approaching, and her face lighted 
with both pride and pleasure. 

He appeared to be greatly surprised to find Mrs. Richards 
there, but gieeted her politely, although she felt the restraint in 
his manner which he could not quite conceal. 

She beckoned to Josephine, who was not far distant, and 
•presented her, with a feeling of pride in her brilliant beauty 
that she did not try to hide. 

He shook hands with her, though his face flushed as he 
remembered the awkward position in which she had placed him 
at Yonkers by misrepresenting the motive of his visit there. 

“You did not come to see us again before leaving America, 
after all," she said, in tones of playful reproach, when they had 
exchanged greetings. 

“No; my time was so fully occupied that I found it im- 
possible to make any calls," he returned, a shade of sadness 
coming into his fine eyes as he thought of hmv his time had 
been employed and the unhappiness it had caused him. 

“You received my little package, I perceive," Josephine 


342 


yOSEPHINE^S A MB n /OAT, 


said, glancing at the cameo upon his hand, and with a flush 
rising to her cheeks. 

‘'Yes; did you not receive my acknowledgment of it?’' he 
asked, in surprise. 

“ No ; I have never heard anything from you,” she answered, 
with downcast eyes. 

“But I wrote, thanking you. You must have thought me 
lacking in courtesy,” Lord Carrol said, regretfully. 

“No — but — Lord Carrol, there has been a misunderstanding 
about that jewel from the first. I really do not know what you 
believe regarding it, for your note was somewhat ambiguous, 
and I trust you will allow me to explain more fully to you 
sometime how I happened to have it,” Josephine replied, with 
an appealing glance at him from her brilliant dark eyes. 

He bowed somewhat coldly in return. He could not forget 
that his darling had said that she stole it from her — ^ihat one 
little treasure which she had prized more than anything else in 
the world, and there could be no excuse for, no explanation of, 
an act so cowardly and cruel, he thought. 

“I presume you have heard that we have come to reside in 
England,” the artful girl continued, desiring to change the topic 
of conversation, yet determined to keep him by her side. 

“So I have been told. How do you like England and 
English people so far?” he asked. 

“Very much. We have been down to Halowell Park, where 
we expect to reside most of the year, and it is delightful there. 

I hope now that we shall sometime see your home, of which 
you have told us so much. We intend to become familiar with 
all of England.” 

“ I little thought that day at Long Branch, when Mrs. Rich- 
ards was telling me that you were relatives of Sir Charles 
Thornton, that you would eventually become his heirs,” Lord 
Carrol said, ignoring her evident desire that he should invite her 


JOSEPHINE'S AMBITION 


343 

to visit his home, and little dreaming that such an invitation 
had already been given by his mother. 

“ Mamma thought of it, however, although she did not really 
expect anything of the kind. Do you remember her asking 
you if Sir Charles had any family?'' 

“Yes." 

“Well, she knew that there were very few relatives, and she 
did wonder then who would inherit the estates if he should die 
childless. But it seems like some romantic tale to me. I can 
scarcely realize it even yet. " 

“ How does English society compare with American, in your 
opinion ?" Lord Carrol asked, glancing over the brilliant throng 
around them. 

“lam sure, my lord, I should not presume to judge upon 
so short an experience," Josephine answered, modestly, yet her 
glance told him that she admired one Englishman excessively. 

“/should judge," he said, smiling, “if I could form any 
opinion from the court which I saw you holding as I entered, 
that you would be considered quite an acquisition in London 
circles." 

He did not say that he should consider her such, and a thrill 
of pain shot through her heart at his indifference ; but she ap- 
peared to take it as a personal compliment from him, and 
answered, with a shy look : 

* ‘ Thank you ; I find it very pleasant to be here, at all 
events. " 

Her tone, he-r glance, and the emphasis which she threw 
into that last sentence, would have turned half the heads in that 
room, but they did not move him in the least. 

He was constantly thinking of a fair, sweet face, framed in 
gold ; of azure eyes, with white lids and long, curling lashes, 
and smiling coral lips, with the gleam of small white teeth be- 
tween ; of his bright, beautiful Star — the light of his life. 

He was thinking of that day when they drove on the beach 


344 


yOSEPHLVE'S AMBITION. 


at Coney Island, when he had told her of his love, and won 
her promise to be his wife; how she had called him “Archie” 
in those sweet, low tones, which had made his heart thrill with 
an ecstasy it had never known before; while this proud, bril- 
liant girl had no power to stir even a feeling of friendship in 
his breast. 

She kept him at her side for half an hour or more, and 
then she was obliged to release him, and lulhll an engagement 
to dance. 

But her heart was full of a passionate longing to win his 
love ; he had never appeared so grand and manly to her before; 
and as she stood before her glass that night, after her return 
from Lady Tukesbury’s reception, and removed the flowers from 
her hair and bosom, she said, while she set her small white 
teeth resolutely together; 

“ I will move heaven and earth to win him ; I will bend all 
my energies to become Lady Carrol. A whole year has passed 
and he has not married ; there was not even any one present 
to-night to whom he paid particular attention, and it cannot be 
possible that he is still grieving for that milk-and-water beauty. 
Star Gladstone. No; I have the field clear to myself, and 1 
swear I will yet be Countess of Carrol.” 

“But suppose he is not to be won — suppose you fail in what 
you have sworn to accomplish ly fair means or foul.^” whispered 
something within, with such startling distinctness that it almost 
seemed like a human voice. 

“If I fail!” she repeated, growing white to her very lips. 
“If I cannot win the man whom I love with my whole soul, 
then” — and there was a look of wretchedness, almost of despair, 
in her midnight eves at the thought — “then I will marry some 
poor fool who shall lose his head over my pretty face, and be 
lady somebody else.” 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE, 


345 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 

When Lady Sherbrooke informed her son that she had invited 
Mr. Richards and his family to spend the following week with 
them at their country residence, and to help them make merry 
with a number of their friends, his face had clouded instantly, 
and she saw that he was not pleased with the arrangement. 

“Have I done anything wrong, Archie?" she asked, much 
disturbed. “I thought you would be pleased. They spoke 
of your spending several days with them when you were in 
America, and I supposed you would be glad to return the 
civility. " 

His lips had curled slightly when she had mentioned that 
they had told of his visit to Yonkers. He thought they should 
have preferred to keep it to themselves, rather than boast of it 
in order lo get a return, under the circumstances. 

But he said nothing of this, and answered, as brightly as 
he could : 

“No, mother dear; you have done nothing wrong, and I will 
try and make myself as agreeable as possible to your guests. 
But I must confess that neither Mrs. nor Miss Richards is 
agreeable to me." 

“Why, Archie.?" 

“I would prefer to say nothing more just now, since they 
are coming to visit us. Perhaps sometime I can tell you why," 
he answered, thoughtfully. 

“ I am sorry," Lady Sherbrooke returned, regretfully, while 
she studied her son’s face wistfully. “I wish 1 had known of 
this in season to have avoided anything so extremely unpleasant 


346 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 


But they were so profuse in their praises of you that I supposed 
of course that you reciprocated their friendliness/' 

‘‘Never mind,” he said, lightly; “a week will not be very 
long. No doubt Miss Richards — who, I admit, is a very bril- 
liant girl — will be a great addition to your party, and I would 
not have any little whim of mine mar it for the world.” 

“Archie, did you ever — ” began his mother, with a startled, 
rueful glance at him, as it suddenly came to her that there 
might be a more serious reason for this than she had dreamed. 

But he interrupted her, with a laugh. 

“No, mother; I never did,” he said, with an amused gleam 
in his eyes. “And now ask me nothing more at present, please; 
but when your guests are all gone, I have a little story for your 
ear, and shall want a share of sympathy and counsel from your 
wise head and great heart.” 

Cheshire House, situated abou’t a dozen miles out from Lon- 
don, and so called because it overlooked a little village which, 
at that time, bore that name, was filled to overflowing during 
the following week, and everybody appeared to anticipate a 
season of intense enjoyment. 

We cannot follow the gay company in all their enjoyments, 
but it was an eventful time, during which the hospitable hostess 
and her lovely daughter, assisted by Lord Carrol, spared no 
effort to make it a memorable one; and when, right in the 
midst of it all, Ralph Meredith came by special invitation, one, 
at least, of that merry number felt that everything was com- 
plete, and nothing more to be wished for. 

The last night of their stay there had been set apart for a 
great time. 

Invitations had been sent in every direction through the 
county, bidding all the young people to gather there and make 
merry in their own way. 

The evening was to be spent in games, private theatricals, 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 


347 

and masquerade until twelve o’clock, after which hour they 
were to ‘‘trip the light fantastic toe” as long as they liked. 

It was a merry, merry time indeed, and everybody seemed to 
vie with his neighbor to see who could contribute most to the 
enjoyment of the occasion. 

Vivien Sherbrooke and Josephine Richards were declared by 
each and all to be the belles of the evening, notwithstanding 
they were entirely different in the style of their beauty. 

The former wore a dress of rose-colored silk, with overdress 
of tulle looped with roses. Ropes of pearls were wound around 
her fair neck and arms and twined in her shining brown hair. 
Her clear gray eyes gleamed with a brighter luster than usual, 
a deeper flush was on her cheeks, and her lips wreathed with 
happier smiles. 

Josephine was in simple white, with not an atom of color to 
relieve it. A peculiarly dainty dress of some soft clinging 
stuff fell in matchless folds of grace around her lithe form, 
wdth rare, costly lace for garniture, and great poppies, in which 
diamonds glistened like drops of dew, fastened on her breast 
and in her hair. 

This spotless toilet was wonderfully becoming to her clear, 
dark complexion, and her mother s heart swelled with pride as 
she looked upon her and knew that she was the most dis- 
tinguished-looking girl among all that company of aristocrats. 

“She cannot fail to win a high position, in the world,” she 
said to herself, as she saw several titled men hovering about her 
and hanging upon her smiles. “If she fail to win Lord Carrol 
— if he remains blind to her charms — there are plenty of others, 
thank Heaven, who will appreciate her. There is his grace, the 
Duke of Anerby, who admires her very much, and it would be 
very nice to be able to say ‘ my daughter, the Duchess of 
Anerby but Tm afraid she loves Lord Carrol altogether too 
well,” she concluded, with a sigh. 

There could not be much doubt regarding Josephine s senti- 


348 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 


ments toward his lordship, for, as they stood for a few moments 
together beneath an arch of evergreen which had been erected 
at one end of the hall, her lace was raised to his, as she 
listened to what he was saying, with a tender, almost rapt ex- 
pression, and her eyes were humid with the love which filled 
her heart for him. 

He thought that she had never appeared to so much ad- 
vantage as now. During all her stay at Cheshire House she 
had been more kind and gentle, more womanly than he had 
ever seen her before; and now he lingered by her side, real- 
izing how very beautiful she was, and feeling almost as if he 
had wronged her in the past by judging her so harshly, and 
his manner involuntarily became more gracious and friendly 
toward her. 

She saw it, and it made her heart bound with a wild hope, 
and she became so radiant, so fascinating and bewildering, that 
he wondered if he had indeed been nourishing an unjust preju- 
dice against her. 

Lady Sherbrooke saw them standing there, apparently ob- 
livious of everything and everybody else, and an anxious look 
shot into her face, for she had studied Miss Richards during her 
unguarded moments the past week, reading her character like 
an open book with her womanh' intuition, and she knew that 
she would never make a good man happy; she would never 
yield that wifely self-sacrifice which was necessary to domestic 
enjoyment; and seeing how passing fair she was to-night, she 
dreaded her influence over her idolized son, notwithstanding 
what he had already told her. 

Suddenly one merry sprite appeared to be possessed by a 
novel idea of some kind, and went flitting about the room, 
whispering, laughing, and making signs at the pair under the 
evergreen arch. 

The company, who were mostly young people, appeared to 
join in with her proposals, whatever they were, and at length 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE, 


349 

she danced gayly up to Lord Carrol and Josephine, saying, 
eagerly : 

“Archie" — she had known him all her life, and being in- 
timate in the family, felt privileged to address him thus — 
“Archie, we have been arranging such capital fun, and we 
want you to agree to help us in it." 

“Certainly I will assist you. You know you are to do 
exactly as you like to-night, and get all the enjoyment you can 
out oi this occasion." 

“ Oh, you are perfectly delightful ! Isn't he, Miss Richards.^" 
returned the merry girl, with a glance at Josephine, and the 
look which that young lady shot at him, half startled but 
w’holiy admiring, together with the flush which leaped into 
her cheeks, answered the question better than any words could 
have done. 

“ Well, granted that I am all that," Lord Carrol said, laugh- 
ing, “what next 

“We are going to have a mock marriage; everybody has 
agreed that it will be something new under the sun, and we’re 
just in the mood for a wedding or any event equally exciting. 
It is almost on the stroke of twelve, and it will be just the thing 
to wind up with before we begin our dancing. 

“Don’t you think it will seem like trifling with a serious 
sub ect.^" Lord Carrol asked, rather gravely. 

“Oh, no. Of course we do not mean anything wrong; it is 
only for a little fun, and we do so want a bride to lead off in 
the dance," replied the thoughtless girl. 

“Well," the young man returned, lightly, “anything you 
like, only do not let the ceremony be too tedious, for I am 
ready for my dance, and 1 believe I shall ask you to be my 
first partner, Minnie. But who are yen going to have for 
victims.^" he concluded, unsuspicious of the trap he was walk- 
ing into. 

“ Oh, you’re to be groom, and Miss Richards the bride. She 


350 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 


is the only one in the room who is dressed all in white, as a 
bride should be, and this green arch is just the place for the 
ceremony to be performed/' 

Lord Carrol felt anything but comfortable over this arrange- 
ment. He glanced at Josephine to see how she would take it. 
But she stood with downcast eyes, looking the picture of lovely 
confusion, a beautiful color in her face, while he noticed that 
the hand which held her fan trembled visibly. 

''Lord Henderson said he would play parson and pronounce 
the banns," the merry child rattled on, ‘‘and he is so portly he 
will make a first-rate one. Now, Archie, you and Miss Richards 
go into the anteroom yonder, so as to come in like a real bridal 
party. Wait, there is that lovely lace shawl of Lady Orton’s ; 
she will lend it, I know, for a vail, and it will be just the thing. 
Now don’t stand there like a pair of bashful lovers, for it is only 
play, you know," she added, saucily, “but do as I tell you, and 
I will arrange everything, then bring the vail ;" and giving her 
two victims a gentle push, the excited girl whisked away to 
another part of the hall. 

“Well, Miss Richards, Miss Shelton intends to have every- 
thing her own way, and I do not see but what we shall be 
obliged to help her carry out her plans," Lord Carrol said, try- 
ing to speak lightly, and to make the best of a very — to him — 
disagreeable situation. 

“You certainly do resemble a bride in your dress," he 
added, “more than any one else in the room, and, if agree- 
able to you, we will assist in the little piece of folly just to 
please the child." 

Little piece of folly ! 

If he could but have known of the tumult that was raging 
within her at the mere thought of such a ceremony in con- 
nection with him, he would not have called it that — it would 
have been sacrilege ! 

She was trembling like a leaf, and she knew that that mar- 


THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 


35J 


riage service, though but the meaningless freak of a wild girl, 
would seem as solemn to her as if he were really to make her 
his wife. 

That was “folly'' without doubt, but she loved him so that 
she could not help the feeling. 

He offered her his arm, and they retired to the anteroom 
together, and Lord Carrol could not help perceiving the strange 
thrill which pervaded the girl's whole frame as her hand came 
in contact with his arm. 

But they were not left long alone, for Minnie Shelton soon 
came tripping in with an exquisite point lace shawl hanging 
over her arm. 

“Everybody is on the qui vive,'' she said, breathlessly, “and 
we must not keep them waiting. Sit down. Miss Richards, on 
this divan, and let me pin this shawl on your head ; it will 
make a lovely bridal vail. There, Lord Carrol, isn't she charm- 
ing.?" she asked, after she had dextrously arranged it in graceful 
folds. “ Doesn't she look like a real bride.?" 

“ I think your efforts have been eminently successful to make 
her appear like one," he answered, smiling; and certainjy Jose- 
phine was as lovely as it was possible for any one to be. 

“I only hope, my lord, that when you do married you'll 
find somebody half as beautiful," retorted the saucy elf. “There, 
you'll do; now go, fDr they are all waiting, and the parson is 
ready to pronounce the banns." 

Lord Carrol felt very uneasy, but he offered his arm to Jose- 
phine again, and her hand fell upon it, white and soft as a 
snow-flake. 

They passed out into the great ball-room and paused under 
the green arch, while murmurs of surprise and admiration 
greeted them from every side, for the addition of the lace shawl 
to Josephine's already charming toilet had greatly enhanced her 
appearance. * 

Two or three young girls, led by Minnie Shelton, advanced 


352 


THE^ MOCK MARRIAGE. 


and took their station by her side to act as bride-maids, and 
then Lord Henderson, clad in a long white robe improvised for 
the occasion, came forward and read the marriage seivice. 

When the ring was called for, the gay girl who had planned 
all this reached behind the bride and tucked one into Lord 
Carrol’s hand. 

He was strangely impressed, a feeling of awe, a chill, creep- 
ing over him as he felt it and thought of its significance. 13ut 
he took it and put it on the finger of the mock bride, repeat- 
ing. “with this ring I wed thee, and all my goods endow thee,” 
feeling as if he were going through a mockery almost too hor- 
rible to endure. 

Josephine, too, trembled visibly, while the hand that he held 
was as cold as ice. 

She would have given the world to have been able to control 
herself, for she feared that the company would suspect some- 
thing of the tumult in her heart, but she could not. 

However, when the ceremony was over, the gay crowd came 
forward, brimming with mirth, and in the jollity that followed, 
these impressions in a measure passed away. 

There were laughter and compliment on ever}^ lip, shaking of 
hands and congratulation on every side, until at length Minnie 
Shelton put a stop to it by coming forward and saying : 

“The musicians are all ready. Lord Carrol; you’ll have to 
dance the first quadrille with your bride; I’ll claim you for the 
second. Hasn’t it been a lovely wedding, though ^ — just as if 
it had been real, you know — and we’ve hatl all the fun without 
any flurry. My!” perking her restless head on one side and 
eying Josephine out of her bright eyes like some pretty bird, 
“don’t I hope I may make as charming a bride when some- 
body comes to marry me!” 

There was a general laugh at this sally, for Miss Minnie was 
a favorite with everybody. 

“Now come, please; and. Lord Henderson, if you have no 


HAVE BEEN MAD,** 


353 

objection, Td like you for a partner, and we will be the happy 
couple's vis a vis,** 

Without waiting for his consent, she slipped her little hand 
within his arm and led him along after Lord Carrol and Jose- 
phine, who could do nothing but obey her commands. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

HAVE BEEN MAD." 

When that first dance was over. Lord Carrol led Josephine 
to a seat, and, bowing before her, said, in as light a tone as he 
could command : 

‘'Thank you. Miss Richards. I suppose our part in this 
little farce closes now. Allow me to congratulate you upon 
having assisted in carrying it off* in the most perfect manner. I 
must confess," he added, a slight shade falling over his face, 
“ that it does not strike me as just the thing to make a mockery 
of sacred subjects ; but since Minnie Shelton, who is a veritable 
witch, and our guests have enjoyed it, perhaps I should not 
preach about it. " 

Josephine looked up at him with a strange glitter in her eyes, 
while her face was crimson. 

Oh, if he would but utter one fond, tender word to her — if 
he would but give her a sign even, to show that his heart had 
been thrilled like her own while they were standing there side 
by side ! 

He noticed her heightened color, and thought she looked at 
him queerly, but he never mistrusted the storm that was tearing 
her heart asunder. 

“I fear you are very warm," he said, kindly. “Shall I get 
you an ice?" 


354 


HAVE BEEN MADN 


"'Thanks, no. I shall do very well,” she answered, con- 
strainedly. 

And then, with another bow, he excused himself and left her. 

A convulsive sob broke from the girl's lips as she watched 
him pass down the long room and out at a lower door ; then 
she, too, arose and glided through the window near which she 
had been sitting. 

She sped along the wide piazza until she came to the end, 
where a flight of steps led down to a little arbor, or cluster of 
small trees which inclosed a great piece of statuary. 

She fled within it, and sinking down upon the granite base 
which supported the marble group, she gave vent to her misery 
in a burst of passionate tears. 

Lord Carrol, too, as he passed out of the ball-room, was 
more deeply moved than he would have liked to betray, and 
not very well pleased either with the part he had been com- 
pelled to play so much against his inclination. 

Had his companion been any other than Josephine, perhaps 
he would have felt differently ; but he could not forget that he 
had once been represented as her lover, and something in her 
manner to-night warned him that she would not have regretted 
it had that farce been a bona fide marriage service instead, and 
he was exceedingly annoyed over the affair. 

He met his mother as he was going through a hall, and she 
detained him by gently laying her hand upon his arm. 

"Has anything disturbed you.?” she asked, looking up into 
his clouded face. 

"‘No, mother; nothing but that farce which has just been 
enacted. I do not like such things; they seem too much like 
sacrilege,” he returned. 

"‘Neither do I like them, Archie,” she said, gravely. ""We 
have no right to make light of any subject so serious as mar- 
riage ; but Minnie is a wild, thoughtless girl, intent only on the 
excitement of the moment, and did not stop to consider. I 


HAVE BEEN MADN 


355 


must say, though, that Miss Richards helped to carry it off 
splendidly, and appeared the blushing, modest bride to per- 
fection. She is a fine-looking girl.'" 

She said this to sound him, regarding him searchingly all the 
time that she was speaking. 

*‘Yes; she appears to attract considerable admiration,'" he 
replied, indifferently, and then passed on. 

He went out at the great hall-door upon the veranda, which 
Josephine had just a moment or two ago traversed, and fol- 
lowed almost in her footsteps, until he came to that little 
circle of shrubbery, when, instead of going within it, he went 
around it. 

He could not shake off the unpleasant sensations that were 
upon him ; everything in his nature had suddenly seemed to 
become out of tune, and he wished to get away from even the 
sounds of the gay revelers within the house, while his thoughts 
turned wistfully toward the new world and Star. 

He was getting vety impatient to go to her, and he had in- 
tended to be on his way thither before this, but circumstances 
had recently transpired by which he would be detained another 
month, and the time seemed very long to him. 

He paced back and forth in the moonlight for some time, his 
footsteps making no sound on the velvety turf; but all at once, 
as he passed that evergreen circle, within which Josephine still 
sat, a sob fell upon his ear and startled him. He stopped to 
listen, and heard the sound repeated.. With his usual energy 
and decision, he passed around to the entrance and approached 
the group of statuary to ascertain who was there. 

At first he could see no one, for just then the moon was 
hidden by a cloud, and Josephine's dress being white, her form 
blended with the marble and could not be distinguished, while 
she was so absorbed by her own emotions that she was not 
aware of Lord Carrol's presence until he touched her on the 
shoulder and said : 


356 


“/ HAVE BEEN MADN 


‘‘Pardon me, you are grieving; is your trouble anything 
that I can help?'" 

She sprang to her feet instantly and confronted him, her 
cheeks blazing hotly, her v/hole form trembling from the touch 
of his hand. 

“Miss Richards!'' he exclaimed, in surprise, as he recog- 
nized her, while involuntarily he recoiled from her, so unex- 
pected and disagreeable — in his present frame of mind — was 
this meeting. 

“I thought," he added, “that you were in the ball-room 
enjoying yourself with the other merrymakers. 

She noticed the coldness of his tone, as well as his uncon- 
scious shrinking from her, and it cut her to the heart, while at 
the same time it aroused her anger. 

“Enjoying myself!" she repeated, passionately and unguard 
edly ; “the evening is spoiled for me; everything is spoiled — 
the world and my life. That mockery through which we have 
just passed has made me miserable.'' 

It was strange, he thought, that they should both feel thus. 

“I regret that anything should have occurred to make you 
so unhappy," he returned. “ I hoped while you were the guest 
of my mother that nothing would transpire to mar the pleasure 
of any one. But," he added, more cheerfully, “you must not 
allow that farce to oppress you thus. 1 do not, as I have said 
before, approve of making light of such serious things, and 
marriage, to me, seems like a sacred ordinance. But no harm 
was done, I trust; our friends were amused for a half-hour; 
and really. Miss Richards," he concluded, smilingly, “if, when 
you come to be married in earnest, you make as charming a 
bride as you did to-night, the happy man will be one to be 
envied." 

Don't, Lord Carrol," Josephine cried out, in a sharp tone 
of pain, and laying her hand appealingly on his arm; don't 
say such things to me !" 


<‘7 HAVE BEEN MAD” 


357 


She was trembling like a leaf, and he saw that she was ter- 
ribly excited, while the piteous tone in which she had just 
spoken went directly to his kind heart. He took her hand and 
drew it under his arm. 

''You are nervous,'' he said, kindly. "Come and walk with 
me a few moments until you are calmer — the night is almost 
like summer — then I will take you back to the company." 

His tone was so sympathizing, his touch on her arm so 
gentle, while it thrilled every fiber of her body, that it was more 
than she could bear. 

She was going to-morrow, and this man whom she loved 
with a passion almost amounting to idolatry, would be beyond 
her reach. She would not meet him again for months, perhaps 
never, and this thought, added to her other pain, broke her 
down completely. 

She grasped his -arm with both her white hands, her heart 
was beating like a frightened bird’s, there was a choking sensa- 
tion in her throat, and bowing her graceful head upon her 
clasped and trembling hands, she burst into a fresh fit of weep- 
ing, which was like a tempest. 

The young lord found himself in a very awkward position. 
Those shaking hands, that bowed head lying so near his heart, 
that lithe, quivering form, those tears and sobs, told him but 
too plainly what caused this deep emotion. 

" Miss Richards — Josephine," he said, unwittingly using her 
first name in his embarrassment, "let me take you in. You 
will make yourself ill. What can I do for you ?" 

But she could not control herself. She had abandoned her- 
self too entirely now to her passion to conquer it readily, and 
she sobbed on, conscious only of how she loved him, and that 
she was near him. 

Oh I if he could but have returned her love, she would 
gladly have given the best years of her life. There was no 


358 


“/ HAVE BEEN MAD." 


sacrifice too great, she thought at that moment, for her to make 
in exchange for the prize she wished to win. 

Wkat can I do for you, my friend.'^'' he asked again. 

Love meT burst most unconsciously from her trembling 

lips. 

He started violently. He had not imagined that she would 
dare to give utterance to such words as these; while she knew, 
the instant that they were spoken, that instead of gaining his 
affection, she had forfeited even his respect. 

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Lord Carrol 
said very gravely, but still very gently : 

“Miss Richards, you have become so excited over what has 
transpired, that I think you are hardly conscious of, or respon- 
sible for what you have said. Shall we go in now.?’' 

“No!" she answered, lifting her head proudly, and stifling 
her sobs, although she still clung tightly to his arm, as if she 
could not let him go. “No; I will not go in yet. Having 
said so much, I must say more. You are right. I am not 
responsible for the words which I have spoken. I did not mean 
to speak them — they escaped me unawares; but since I have 
spoken them, I cannot recall them, and my secret is mine no 
longer. Oh I" she continued, with a heart-breaking sob, “pity 
me, have compassion on me, forgive me 1" 

“I have nothing to forgive," he said, kindly; “and, believe 
me, I am very sorry that your nerves should have been so over- 
taxed to-night; but," and his face flushed, “perhaps it will be 
better for both of us if I tell you that, however much I may 
esteem you, my heart could never respond to the wish you have 
expressed ; it has long been given to another. I thought you 
knew this; I thought your knew that — I loved your cousin, 
Miss Gladstone." 

Her hands dropped from his arm as if they had been burned, 
while keen, quivering pains shot all over her body at this 
avowal. 


«/ BAFE BEEN AfAD,'' 


359 


Her head came up with a haughty gesture, her eyes blazed 
with sudden anger, her red lips curled with bitter scorn. She 
had humiliated herself — she had bowed her proud spirit to the 
dust to win him, and now he dared to tell her this — dared to 
tell her that he loved the girl whom she hated, whom she had 
triple cause to hate in that she was far her superior in every 
way — she had won the heart of the only man whom she had 
ever loved, and had laid her under an obligation which she 
could never repay. 

‘ ‘ I believe I have been madT she whispered, fiercely, through 
her tightly shut teeth, which shone like lovely pearls in the 
moonlight. ‘‘Yes, I must have been mad,’' she went on; 
“some spirit of evil must have possessed me to make me tell 
you what I have; for — hear me. Lord Carrol — I do not love 
you ; I hate you ! If I ever had any love for you, it has turned 
to hate now, and I detest the girl whom you profess to love, 
and for whom you have dared to confess your affection, know- 
ing how I hate her." 

She pressed her hands wildly to her temples, with a low 
moan. It was not so easy as she thought to hate where she 
had loved so passionately. 

“Do you think it is a light thing," she asked, hotly, “for a 
girl to reveal the secrets of her heart, as I have revealed mine 
to-night? Do you think there has been no sacrifice of pride 
or modesty on my part to tell you what I have told you? My 
heart has been burning to ashes while standing here by your 
side, and you have pitilessly tortured me still further by telling 
me that you love Star Gladstone— that girl who has only crossed 
my path to mar my every prospect in life. I thought half an 
hour ago, when I stood beside you during that mock ceremony 
and spoke those sacred words, that if they could only have 
been real — if I could indeed have been made your lawful wife, 
it would have been like the happiness of heaven for me. If you 
could have but called me by that fond name only once — if you 


360 


“/ HAVE BEEN MAD:^'' 


had looked tenderly into my eyes and owned me yours, I could 
have asked no greater bliss in life. But, heavens ! when I break 
every barrier down, when I forget my womanhood and modesty 
and tell you how I idolize you, you coolly inform me that you 
love the girl I hate. Beware ! you have made me an eternal 
enemy to you both, and I will ruin both your lives, as you have 
ruined mine, if I can.^^ 

She would have dashed wildly by him after uttering those last 
fierce, revengeful words, but he placed himself directly in her 
path and would not let her pass. 

He saw now that all his sympathy and kindly feeling had 
been worse than wasted. He had read her character aright 
from the first ; she was totally selfish, and her love — if an un- 
reasoning passion like hers could be called love — would have 
made any true man miserable, for her ambition would never be 
satisfied. 

He did not wonder now that he had not had more faith in 
her, and his sympathy and sorrow for her were at once turned 
into contempt. 

*‘Miss Richards,'' he began, in a stern, cold voice, and look- 
ing down into her angry, blazing eyes with a glance which 
cowed her in spite of her passion, “what respect I may have 
entertained for you heretofore, what pity or compassion I may 
have experienced for your apparent suffering to-night, and the 
only emotion which ever made you appear really womanly or 
gentle in my eyes, has wholly vanished during those last vin- 
dictive words of yours. I had begun to hope that you had 
learned lessons of charity and kindness during the past year — 
that you had come to realize there was something more required 
in life than a continual seeking after pleasure and the gratifica- 
tion of pride and ambitious desires ; but I perceive that I was 
mistaken, and I am sorry, for you will be the greatest sufferer. 
Your declaration of hatred, and your threat that you will ruin 
Miss Gladstone's and my life, are but idle words ; for our love 


“/ HAVE BEEN MADN 361 

is something that malice can never touch, and a month hence I 
shall be on my way to America to make her my wife/' 

Josephine uttered a cry of mingled pain and anger at this, 
and made another effort to leave him, but he would not let her 
go even yet. 

“ I have not quite finished what I wish to say, Miss Richards,'' 
he continued, “and we may as well come to a full understand- 
ing at once. I have been told of the change in Miss Glad- 
stone’s fortunes. I have, indeed, learned much regarding her 
life while she was with you that has both pained and surprised 
me. I know, too, of some things which occurred this year, 
when you were both visitors at the same fashionable resort. 
You are, it appears, to remain a resident of England, and we 
may meet occasionally in society; but let me tell you I shall 
never allow any such indignity to be heaped upon the future 
Lady Carrol as that of which you were guilty this summer at 
Newport. " 

He saw her start as he said this. 

“What do you mean.?" she demanded, haughtily. 

“I do not think you are so ignorant of my meaning as you 
appear," he returned, his handsome lips curling with scorn; 
“but if you wish to be reminded of the fact that you publicly 
twitted Miss Gladstone last summ.er of having once performed 
the duties of a chambermaid in your family, I can do so. But 
do not let it ever happen again, or I shall feel it my duty to 
make all the facts of the case public." 

“Who has told you all this.?" she demanded, angrily. : 

“That does not matter," he replied, coldly; “it is sufficient 
that I know it." 

“Ralph Meredith has told you !" she cried. 

“Mr. Meredith is my friend — but that is a point we need 
not discuss, I think," he answered, quietly. 

She beat the air frantically with her hands. She felt how little, 
how contemptible she must appear in his sight. 


362 


“/ HAFE BEEN MADN 


Perhaps you do not know that he played the role of devoted 
lover to Miss. Gladstone this summer,” she sneered, hoping to 
make him jealous. 

Lord Carrol flushed. 

He had mistrusted something of this from what Ralph had 
told him. He did not believe that Star would have confessed 
what she had to him, except to convince him that she could 
never entertain feelings of affection toward any one save the 
man who, as she supposed, had wronged her. 

“Miss Gladstone is my affianced wife,” he replied, proudly, 
feeling that he had a perfect right to regard and speak of her as 
such, knowing that she still loved him, and that his explana- 
tions to her would re-establish their former relations. “But,” 
he added, as he stepped aside now to allow her to pass, “it is 
useless to prolong this interview; only let me caution you, 
Miss Richards, to remember that while you show proper respect 
for me and mine^ I shall also tender you the respect belonging 
to a lady. ” 

She was as white as her spotless dress now. He could see 
by the moonlight that she had grown perfectly ghastly, but 
there was a wild, fearful light in her eyes. 

“My hate will follow you both,” she said, hoarsely, “and I 
tell you I will ruin your lives if I can.” 

She dashed by him with the speed of a fawn and disappeared 
from his sight, leaving him standing there wonder-stricken that 
a creature so beautiful to look upon could possess so depraved 
a nature. 


A CRUSHING BLOW. 


363 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

A CRUSHING BLOW. 

The next morning when the company met at breakfast, Jo- 
sephine experienced a feeling of intense relief upon learning 
that Lord Carrol had been called away to London at an early 
hour on “important business." 

This was the day of their departure also, and she was not 
sorry to leave the house which had been the scene of her 
humiliation and despair over her unrequited love. 

The meal was not a very social one, for every one was tired 
out with last night’s dissipation, and it required more of an 
effort than they felt capable of making to be very merry. 

After it was over, and as Josephine was passing through the 
hall on her way to her own room, she espied the morning 
papers lying on the table. 

Mechanically she took up one, glancing carelessly over the 
columns, when almost the first thing she saw was a notice of 
the arrival of a steamer from New York two days previous, with 
a list of the passengers below. 

A lurid light shot into her eyes and an angry exclamation 
burst from her lips as she read ; for, among the other names in 
that list, she read those of Jacob Rosevelt, Miss Star Gladstone 
and maid, from New York. 

“'What on earth can have possessed them to comeaboad just 
at this time?'' she muttered, with lowering brow. “If they had 
only waited a month they would have missed him, but now 
they will be sure to meet." 

She took the paper and went up stairs to her mother s room, 
and showed the notice to her. 

She was very angry also. 


364 


A CRUSHING BLOW. 


It seems as if that girl was bound to be the ruination of us. 
They are continually crossing our path, and I declare it is more 
than human nature can patiently bear. I wonder what has 
brought them to England?'' 

“ I suppose Uncle Jacob thinks he must give his charming 
protegee every advantage possible," Josephine sneered, bitterly. 

‘‘Well, I'm sure we do not need to mind them now," Mrs. 
Richards said, with a sigh of satisfaction. “Even if she gets 
every penny of his money, your position will henceforth be far 
superior to hers. " 

“I don’t know about that," the girl retorted, with a painful 
flush. “If Lord Carrol meets her, and they make up their 
quarrel, I shall still be rather in the background, I imagine." 

“True; I had not thought of that," her mother replied, 
with a blank look. “ I wish you could have managed to entrap 
him, Jo." 

“Jo" bit her lips until the blood spurted from them, as she 
remembered how her “trap" had sprung and wounded only 
herself. 

“ Lord Carrol is a foolT she said, passionately. 

Her mother looked up at her searchingly, mistrusting that 
her daughter had more reason for her pale face and heavy eyes 
than she knew of. 

“ If only that marriage last night could have been a real one, 
I should have been the happiest woman in England this morn- 
ing," she said, wistfully. 

“ With one exception," Josephine thought, with a bitter sigh 
and a hard glitter in her eyes ; but she said nothing. 

They did not leave Sherbrooke House that day, however. A 
sudden storm came on during the afternoon, too violent to 
admit of the departure of any one, and Lady Sherbrooke would 
not allow any of her guests to mention such a thing. And so 
the long, dreary day was spent in rest and quiet. 

But the next day broke bright and pleasant, and just as the 


A CRUSHIATG BLOW, 365 

company were sitting down to the morning meal, Minnie Shel- 
ton came dancing into the breakfast-room, her cheeks glowing, 
her eyes sparkling, and her lips parted in the brightest of 
smiles, while a paper fluttered in her small hands. 

“Such fun!'' she exclaimed, merrily. “ Here is a descrip- 
tion of your ball, Lady Sherbrooke, in the Cheshire Gazette — 
the mock marriage and all ; and the best of the whole thing is, 
they have written up that event so that at a first glance any one 
would naturally suppose that a real wedding had occurred. 
Listen." 

She held up the paper and read : 

“MARRIED. — At the country residence of Lady Sherbrooke, on the 
loth instant. Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, to 
Miss Josephine Richards, formerly of New York, U. S. A., but recently 
reported to be the heiress presumptive to the Thornton estates in Devon- 
shire. The fair bride was lovely in her bridal robes, not the least notice- 
able of which was the exquisite point lace vail, which was also of great 
value.’* 

“There — isn't that too rich for anything.?" the gay girl cried; 
“and do look at the mock bride’s blushes!" pointing at Jo- 
sephine, whose face was crimson from varied emotions; “what 
a pity it is that our handsome groom is not here to see them ; 
and one would almost imagine she was a real bride by her 
confusion." 

“Then there follows a .long account of the ball, which ex- 
plains everything," she added, laying down the paper; “but 
Tm so out of breath that I can’t read any more, and you’ll 
have to peruse it for yourselves. " 

There was an awkward silence for a moment after she had 
ceased speaking ; then Lady Sherbrooke said, in tones of grave 
reproof : 

“Minnie, my dear, what a wild child you are; but you 
.must learn to be more thoughtful of the feelings of others." 

“Why, what have I done.?" she asked, with great, round, 
innocent eyes, yet a guilty flush rose to her cheeks. 


366 


A CRUSHING BLOW, 


‘‘I am very glad if you enjoyed the ball/' her ladyship con- 
tinued, still gravely; ‘‘but I regret that you should have pro- 
posed turning so serious a subject as marriage into mockery, 
and I am very sorry — yes, deeply displeased, that any one, in 
writing an account of our gathering here, should have given 
that farce such an’ appearance of reality, for it might make it 
very awkward, not only for my son, but also for some of our 
guests," she concluded, with glance at Josephine's downcast 
face. 

Little Miss Shelton was very uneasy during this reproof, but 
she rallied, and said, lightly : 

“But, dear Lady Sherbrooke, it was all done so nicely; and 
everything was so lovely that it almost seemed like a real wed- 
ding. I wish we could have a real wedding. Won't somebody 
get married, please, and give me an invitation } I haven’t been 
to one since I was a little girl in short clothes." 

And the elf looked around her so roguishly, and with such 
an expression of mock distress on her pretty face, that the com- 
pany broke into an indulgent laugh, and then the subject was 
for the time dropped. 

But Josephine, watching her opportunity when some of the 
guests were leaving, and people generally were occupied saying 
farewell, sought and found that paper, and slipped it unob- 
served into her pocket. 

* S|« ★ 5|« * * * 

In one of the rooms of a beautiful suite of apartments look- 
ing out upon St. James square, a young girl sat by a window, 
looking out upon the passers-by in the street below. 

She was tall, and slender, and graceful as a young elm, her 
small head crowned with masses of golden hair, her eyes — 
“heaven's own blue" — looking out from under a broad fore- 
head, w'hich was partially concealed by the shining mist which 
lay lightly upon it, her redy^ lips parted with an expression of 


A CRUSHING BLOW. 


367 


eager interest as she gazed upon the hurrying throng below. 
She was as fair as the day — a perfect picture, upon which the 
eye would love to linger. 

It is our Star fresh and beautiful as ever, but with something 
more of maturity and dignity in her bearing than when we last 
saw her. 

She has been in London just one week, and is enjoying every 
day, despite the proverbial rain and fog, for she has returned to 
her native land once more, and every inch of ground is replete 
with interest for her. 

The past few months have been full of enjoyment, for she 
has “been everywhere and seen everything'' in the far West of 
the New World — at least as far as that was practicable, and as 
she had warned Mr. Rosevelt she should wish to do — and with 
such congenial companions as he and Miss Meredith always 
were the time could not fail to pass pleasantly. 

But she had turned her face with even keener anticipations 
toward England’s shores, while not even the memory^ of her 
previous terrible experience at sea had power to make her 
shrink from the long voyage, or mar the delight of this glad 
return. 

As she sits there in her handsome parlor, looking out upon 
the street, a door opens, and Jacob Rosevelt enters. 

He looks younger and in better health than we have ever 
seen him before, while his face is animated and genial, as if life 
w^as at its brightest with him. 

Star looked around as he entered. 

“How quickly you fiave returned. Uncle Jacob," she said, 
rising, and going to meet him, and taking his hat. 

“ Yes ; 1 knew you would be impatient for your letters, and, 
as there is quite a budget to be gone through with, I thought it 
best not to keep you in suspense. " 

As he spoke he drew from his capacious pocket a half-dozen 
letters, and as many papers, which he bad just received from 


368 


A CRUSHING BLOW, 


the American Legation, and half of which he gave into Star’s 
own hands. 

“This is from Grace, this from Mr. Appleton, and — this 
must be from Nattie Browning, to whom I gave up my position 
as a teacher,” she said, running the letters through her white 
fingers. 

She laid the papers, which, of course, were of' minor import- 
ance, upon the table, and, sitting down in a low chair, care- 
fully cut the ends of the envelopes, and was soon deep in the 
contents of her news from beyond the sea. 

It took her nearly an hour to read them all. 

Miss Meredith’s was full of chat* and innocent gossip, just 
like that charming young lady’s own self, and contained a num- 
ber of commissions and charges, not the least important of 
which was that Star must be sure to hunt up her brother Ralph, ■ 
who wrote that he should spend spend nearly the whole of the 
month of December in or near London. 

Mr. Appleton’s letter was mostly on business, and regarding 
the book she had written, as well as another which he wanted 
her to write. It contained also a check, and Star always felt 
very proud whenever these bits of paper came made out to her. 
They gave her a feeling of independence and pleasure which 
no other money did. 

The third letter was an entertaining one from a classmate — a 
poor girl to whom she had, as she said, resigned a position as 
teacher upon finding herself the heiress to a million. 

After reading these she took up her papers in a listless way ; 
she did not feel much in the mood for looking them over; they 
seemed tame and uninteresting after the letters. 

But all at once she noticed that one was not a home paper ; 
it bore the London postmark, and was addressed in a hand she 
did not recognize. 

“It cannot be from Ralph Meredith,” she said to herself. 


A CRUSHING BLOW. 369 

*‘for he does not know that I am here. Besides, it is not his 
handwriting. I wonder who could have sent it?’' 

She opened it with considerable curiosity, and yet with a 
feeling of foreboding at her heart. 

The Cheshire Gazette, she read, as she espied the heading, 
and then her eye glanced down over the columns underneath. 

Suddenly she started. 

There is a paragraph marked. 

Her eyes dilate — a look of horror comes into them; her 
lips grow pale, and she feels as if she is suffocating as she 
reads : / 

“MARRIED. — At the country residence of Lady Sherbrooke, on the 
loth instant, Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, to 
Miss Josephine Richards, of New York, U. S. A., and heiress presump- 
tive to the Thornton estates in Devonshire, etc.” 

Could it be true? The paper dropped from her nerveless 
hands. Was the deed really done at last, and Archibald Sher- 
brooke lost to her forever? 

She had not realized until that moment how much of hope 
had lived in her heart during all this time. 

But these dreadful words had suddenly cut it down, as the 
sharp sickle cuts down the tender grass. 

Had she really read them, or had her imagination played her 
some terrible trick? 

Feeling as if she were turning to stone, she picked up the 
paper and compelled herself to go over the horrible sentence 
again. 

Yes, it was all true — it was as plain as print could make it. 
But what was this ? 

A new terror seized her — something that she had not thought 
of until now, she had been so stunned by the bare fact that her 
lover was married. 

Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton V* 


370 


A CRUSHING BLOW. 


A mist comes over her eyes ; her heart drops like a thing of 
lead in her bosom. 

In an instant a suspicion of the truth flashed upon her. 

Had she done her lover an irreparable wrong.? she asked 
herself, with a feeling of despair. Had she driven him from 
her, taunting him with treachery and cowardice, and refusing to 
listen to his defense, when perhaps he had the best in the world 
to offer her? 

Oh ! if she had but heeded Mr. Rosevelt when he begged 
her to let him see him and learn the reason of his mysterious 
conduct. Oh ! if she had only answered that advertisement 
and allowed him to come to her as he had entreated. 

She had been cruel, unjust, wicked ; and now it was too late 
to atone for it. 

She felt as if bands of ice were being bound about her heart 
— as if coals of fire were heaped upon her brain, and branded 
upon it, in letters which would haunt her till her dying hour, 
those two names, Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, 
of Carrol ton. 

Familiar as she was with English customs, she could under- 
stand readily enough how he had become possessed of them, 
and it was so strange that she had never thought of it before. 

In all her suffering upon learning, as she had supposed, that 
she had been betrayed, she had never endured pain like this ; 
and, with her sight failing, her senses reeling, without sound or 
warning, she slipped from her chair to the floor, where she lay 
white and still in a lifeless heap at Jacob Rosevelt's feet 


STELLA MENTAL AGONY, 


371 


CHAPTER XL. 

Stella's mental agony. 

‘‘Bless my soul! what does this mean.?" Jacob Rosevelt 
cried, as, looking up from his own letters, in which he had 
been deeply absorbed, he saw the beautiful girl lying so white 
and still at his feet. 

He rushed to the bell and rang it violently, then, back again 
to Star, whom he lifted tenderly in his arms and laid her upon 
a sofa, where he began chafing her cold hands vigorously. 

Mrs. Blunt soon made her appearance in answer to her mas- 
ters summons, and looked as alarmed as himself to find the 
girl she loved so devotedly in such a critical state. 

But Star's insensibility did not last long. 

All too soon she awoke to a consciousness of this new 
misery. 

“What is the matter?" she asked, as, opening her eyes, she 
found her fond friends bending anxiously over her. 

“You had a fainting turn, dear; but you are better now," 
Mrs. Blunt returned, holding a glass of wine to her lips. 

Star passed her hand across her forehead and sighed heavily, 
as she began slowly to gather up the broken threads of memory 
again . 

“What was it, Starling?" Mr. Rosevelt questioned, with a 
troubled look at her white face; “did you have bad news in 
your letters ?" 

“No, there were no ill-tidings in my letters," she answered, 
avoiding his eye, and wishing to conceal, if possible, the cause 
of her swoon from him. “I read them through," she added, 


372 


STELLA MENTAL AGONY. 


‘‘and was opening my papers, when I began to feel queerly. I 
believe I never fainted but once before in my life.” 

But she shuddered as she remembered how Josephine Rich- 
ards had been the cause of that ill-turn also. 

She sat up and tried to collect herself. 

She still felt as if those icy bands were encircling her heart, 
and as if her brain was on fire ; but she was anxious to get 
hold of that paper once more, and go away by herself 

She did not mean that Jacob Rosevelt should ever know that 
she had seen the notice of her lover s marriage ; she meant to 
keep her secret locked close within her own breast, and not 
even let him suspect that she was still grieving for the man 
whose namq had not been mentioned between them for over a 
year. 

“I am afraid you are going to be ill,” he said, noticing the 
great blue circles under her eyes with alarm. 

“No; do not be anxious about me, Uncle Jacob,” she 
returned, trying to smile. “I shall be all right again in a few 
minutes.” 

And she was, apparently. 

She called all her will to her aid ; she drank a full glass of 
wine, and soon felt much stronger, but oh ! still so wretched 
and heart-sick. 

She arose after awhile and began to move about the room, 
although both Mr. Rosevelt and Mrs. Blunt insisted that she 
was not able — that she ought to be still and rest all day. 

But that paper was still lying upon the floor, with that 
marked paragraph staring her in the face. 

She must get it and hide it, or they would learn all her 
trouble, and know how weak and foolish she was — how lack- 
ing in pride and self-respect to grieve thus after another wo- 
man’s husband ; and her lips curled with scorn at her own 
folly, while all the time the pain at her heart was growing more 
bitter. 


STELLA MENTAL AGONY. 


373 

Very quietly she gathered up her letters and papers, which 
had slipped to the floor when she fell. 

With trembling fingers she folded that fatal sheet into the 
smallest compass, and tucked it slyly into her pocket; then 
laying the others on the table beside Mr. Rosevelt, she said : 

‘‘I do not think I will read anymore now, Uncle Jacob; 
but perhaps you would like to look over these home papers. I 
will go and lie down for a little while, and try to sleep off my 
weakness. '' 

He took her white face between his hands and looked anx- 
iously into her eyes. 

My dear, my dear,'' he said, earnestly, hope you are 
not going to be sick; what should I do without ^you You 
must take care of yourself for my sake, as well as for your own, 
my Star." 

She smiled, and, taking one of the hands that held her face, 
touched her lips to it. 

She knew that no daughter was ever more tenderly beloved 
than she was by this grand old man, whose deathless affection 
had been given to her grandmother. 

“No, I shall not be sick. Uncle Jacob; do not worry," she 
returned, trying to speak lightly. “Many people frequently 
faint, and get entirely over it in an hour. I shall be as well as 
ever in a little while, and all right for the reception at the 
American Legation this evening." 

“ I do not believe you will be able to go," he said, doubt- 
fully. “You must not expose yourself." 

“Oh, I would not miss it on any account," Star answered, 
quickly. “Let me run away now for a nap, and I will show 
you how fresh I shall be when the hour arrives." 

She was anxious to get away from his questioning eyes, and, 
gently releasing herself from him, she sought her own room 
and locked herself in. 

All day long she battled there with her tortured heart ; all 


374 


STELLA MENTAL AGONY. 


day long she fought with the love which she still bore Archie 
Sherbrooke, for it rose up stronger by a hundred-fold now that 
she had discovered that he was innocent of any wrong toward 
her, and realized her own cruel injustice to him. 

If she had but opened and read more of that paper, she 
would have learned her error; but the moment she found her- 
self alone, she took it from her pocket and threw it upon the 
glowing coals in the grate, and watched it while it burned to 
ashes. She was determined that Mr. Rosevelt should never 
see it. 

All day long she lay upon her bed, and thought bitterly of 
Josephine as the proud and happy wife of Lord Carrol — as the 
mistress of his elegant home, the sharer of his position and 
title. 

Oh ! it was too cruel, when she had loved him so ; when she 
knew that she could have made him so happy, while Josephine 
had only sought to win him from selfish and ambitious 
motives. 

She knew now that she had never despised him — never 
scorned him, as she told him that night at Mr. Richards’. 

She knew that never for a moment had she swerved in the 
least degree from her allegiance to him ; that her heart had 
been true and loyal to him, even when she had thought most 
bitterly of him ; and she knew, too — this was the worst of all 
to contemplate — that she should go on loving him as long as 
she lived. 

Five days they had been married. 

The wedding had occurred the tenth of December, and it 
was now the fifteenth. 

It almost seemed as if she would have given as many years 
of her life to have saved him from such a fate as she believed 
would be his with that vain and heartless girl for his life-long 
companion. 

Of course it would do no good to grieve over that now ; but 


STELLA^ S MENTAL AGONY. 


375 


her own future looked like a weary journey, marked only by 
the ^lile-stones of duty, without a stage of happiness to cheer 
her along the way. 

She had known nothing of the Richardses coming abroad ; 
that notice of Josephine s marriage had been the first intima- 
tion that she had had of it. 

She wondered if she had not sent her that paper — if, having 
seen their names and address registered at the American Lega- 
tion, she had not, from a spirit of cruel triumph, sent it to 
wound and humiliate her. 

Yes, she was sure it must be so. 

But she should never know how fully her vile purpose had 
been accomplished. She would hide her anguish deep within 
her own heart. Wherever she went she would appear with a 
bright face and smiling lips, and no one should dream that her 
heart lay like a withered thing in her bosom. 

Mr. Rosevelt came in to see her several times during the 
day, and she always smiled and told him she was resting so as 
to be fresh for the evening. 

Mrs. Blunt tried to make her give up the reception, but she 
would not, protesting that she was as well as ever, although she 
could not hide her misery quite so effectually from that good 
woman^s sharp eyes. 

“Something has happened to upset her and break her heart 
again, or Lm much mistaken,” she muttered, uneasily, while, 
according to Star’s direction, she laid out her elegant dress for 
the evening. 

She had learned to read that fair young face too plainly not 
to feel sure that something very unusual had occurred to pros- 
trate her so. 

Nine o’clock came, and Star Gladstone, a vision of bewilder- 
ing beauty, entered the drawing-room of the United States 
Minister’s elegant residence, leaning on the arm of her distin- 
guished-looking attendant. 


376 


STELLA'S MENTAL AGONY. 


There was a buzz of admiration as she crossed the threshold, 
as there always was wherever she appeared, for it was not^often 
that even that place was graced by the presence of one so won- 
drously gifted with beauty. 

She wore a dress of pale ecru silk, rich and heavy, and made 
perfectly plain save for the deep flounce of costly lace which 
reached almost to her knees, and the delicate vine or fringe of 
drooping ferns that headed it. 

Her fair, beautifully formed arms and neck, which were con- 
cealed only by the same rare lace, were clasped by unique orna- 
ments of dull gold, and these, together with the cluster of fine 
ferns upon her bosom, fastened there with a miniature, dia- 
mond-studded bouquet-holder, comprised her only ornaments. 

But her face, so pure and peerless, looking out beneath that 
golden crown of hair, though a little paler than usual from her 
recent pain, was the loveliest object in that vast room. 

American ladies are noted for their beauty, I believe; but 
though I have met many, I have never yet seen a more exquis- 
ite face and form than that,'' said one gentleman to another, 
who stood leaning against the frame of the door through which 
Star and Mr. Rosevelt had passed but a moment before. 

‘‘You are right; but Gladstone, which is the young lady's 
name, sounds more English than American," returned the gen- 
tleman addressed. 

“They are registered as Americans, however, and she has the 
peculiar beauty of one," said the first speaker. “They have a 
way of enhancing their charms, too, by their perfect taste in 
dress. Our English ladies, as a rule, do not understand the art 
of dressing well, though there are, of course, exceptions to the 
rule, as Miss Vivien Sherbrooke's charming costume over there 
testifies. By the way," he added, with more animation, “they 
say that that handsome young American — Meredith, they call 
him — is going to win our Cheshire beauty away from us." 

He glanced, as he ceased speaking, across the room to where 


STELLA ’5 MENTAL AGON/, 


377 

Miss Sherbrooke was sitting, while Ralph Meredith, in an atti- 
tude of devotion, was bending over her chair. 

He was talking to her in a low tone, a smile on his hand- 
some lips, a new light in his fine eyes, while she listened with 
drooping lids and flushed cheeks. 

But chancing to glance up suddenly, Ralph started and 
uttered a low exclamation of surprise. 

“Excuse me a few moments; I see friends,'' he said; and 
then leaving her hastily, he made his way quickly across the 
room. 

“Miss Gladstone!" he cried, approaching and holding out 
his hand to her, his face all aglow. “I never was so happily 
surprised in my life 1 And here is Mr. Rosevelt, too I How 
does it happen that you are here.? It seems almost like home 
to see home faces. 

Star and Mr. Rosevelt greeted him most cordially, while 
Vivien Sherbrooke sat and watched them with wondering eyes 
and sinking heart. 

Who could this beautiful young girl be who appeared so 
delighted to meet the man whom she had been learning to love 
of late.? 

What was she to him that she had power to make his face 
light up like that, and cause him to forget for the time the 
existence of any one else? 

It must be confessed that the charming Miss Sherbrooke 
was lor the moment jealously inclined to regard Star as her 
rival. 

“lam afraid that you are not quite so well as usual. Your 
Western trip was too much for you, was it not?" Ralph said, 
when their greetings were over, as he noted her paleness, and 
was quick to see the look of pain in her expressive eyes. 

“Oh, no; I am very well, and you are looking finely. I 
think English air must agree with you," Star said, quickly turn- 
ing attention from herself to him. 


378 


STELLA 'S MENTAL AGONY. 


Yes, I am in excellent condition,’' he confessed, with rising 
color, as he remembered how miserable he had been when he 
last saw her, and what had caused the change in his feelings 
and appearance. “How long have you been in London?” he 
queried. 

“Only a week,” Mr. Rosevelt answered. 

“Wasn’t it a sudden start?” 

“Rather. I am here just now on a matter of business, but 
we intend to see something of this side of the world before we 
go back,” the old gentleman explained, with a smile. 

“We hoped we should find you somewhere on our travels, 
for a familiar face makes the heart of the stranger glad, you 
know,” Star said. “ I received a letter from Grace to-day, and 
she writes: ‘Be sure and hunt up Ralph, who is, without 
doubt, in London now.’ But who is that pretty young lady 
across the room with the blush-roses in her hair, and with 
whom I saw you talking as I came in?” 

Mr. Meredith flushed again at this ; but his eyes kindled as 
he glanced over at Vivien, and replied : 

“Oh, that is an acquaintance that I have made since com- 
ing here. Come, and let me introduce you.” 

He purposely avoided mentioning her name, wishing to see 
how Star would receive the introduction. 

As he turned to lead the way to Vivien, she looked up at 
Mr. Rosevelt and smiled archly. 

He understood her, and gently patted the hand on his arm, 
while he nodded his head, and said, dryly : 

“ He’ll do, my young lady, never fear.” 

“Miss Sherbrooke, allow me to make you acquainted with 
Miss Gladstone, a friend from beyond the sea ; also Mr. Rose- 
velt. Miss Gladstone, Mr. Rosevelt — Miss Sherbrooke.” 

Ralph Meredith watched Star closely while he introduced 
and she exchanged greetings with Archibald Sherbrooke’s 
sister; and although she might have appeared self-possessed 


STELLA *S MENTAL AGONY. 


379 


enough to the casual observer, he noticed the quick catching of 
her breath as she heard the familiar name, and remarked the 
flush which leaped into her hitherto pale cheeks, and which, 
although pain had caused it, enhanced her loveliness tenfold. 

‘‘ It is Archie’s sister,” Star said to herself, as their two white- 
gloved hands met, and a thrill of keenest pain shot through 
every nerve. 

“How lovely she is!” she added. “Her eyes are like his 
in their expression, although not in color. Oh 1 I should have 
doved her, I know ; and how rashly I ha^e thrown all my hap- 
piness away !” 

It needed all the power of her will to sustain her as she 
stood there beside Miss Sherbrooke, apparently so calm, and 
chatted with her for the next fifteen minutes ; and Vivien never 
mistrusted the wild emotions which were surging in the heart 
of her new acquaintance, with whom she was exceedingly 
pleased. 

“ How perfectly charming she is 1” she thought, as for a mo- 
ment Star turned to speak to Ralph, and she studied her face 
more closely. 

Then she started violently. 

Surely she had seen that face somewhere before — those great, 
earnest blue eyes — that w^hite forehead gleaming through a 
golden mist — that straight, delicate nose, and those beautiful 
red lips. 

Yes, surely it was the face that her brother had painted when 
he was in America ; only there was a look of pain in those eyes 
now that there had not been then ; there were tense lines about 
the small, sweet mouth, and a seriousness about the whole 
countenance which told that the passing years since then had 
not been full of unalloyed pleasure. 

It was the same, nevertheless, she felt convinced, and she 
resolved that she would find Archie, point Miss Gladstone out 
to him, and ascertain if she were right in her surmises. 


380 


STELLA^ S MENTAL AGONY, 


‘^Perhaps/' she thought, light suddenly breaking in upon 
her mind, “it was something connected with this lovely 
stranger which had caused his own sadness during the last 
year/' 

A gentleman approached her just then, and, turning to Star, 
she said, with a smile : 

“I must ask to be excused, as I have an engagement to 
dance now. I am sorry to leave you in the midst of our 
pleasant chat, but I will see you again before the evening is 
out." 

Star, with an answering smile, said she “hoped they would 
meet again;" but, oh! how she longed to inquire about her 
brother. If she had but spoken just one word to tell her that 
he was well and happy. 

Happy ! The thought nearly made her cry out with pain. 

He muat be changed indeed if he could be that with Jo- 
sephine Richards ; and, loving him as she did, it was agony to 
contemplate it. 

What if he himself was there among that gay throng, with 
the bride he had so lately wedded .? 

What if she were to meet them together.? 

For a moment, as this contingency presented itself to her, 
her brain reeled, and she felt as if her senses were forsaking her 
again ; the next, she called all her pride to her aid. 

This would never do ; no one must ever mistrust her weak- 
ness and wretchedness, and Ralph _ Meredith surely would if 
she gave up to her feelings, for had she not told hin> of her 
false lover.? 

It was strange, she thought, that she should have fourd him 
with Archie’s sister, and she wondered if they had mpt and 
Ralph had called him to account for his treatment of her, as he 
had said he should. 

Oh ! why had she not been more reasonable.? Why did ohe 


STEILA^S MENTAL AGONY. 381 

not let him explain his position to her when he had begged so 
earnestly to do so ? 

She felt as if she could not bear to remain there — she longed 
to go away by herself until she could get a little more calm ; 
and, seeing that Mr. Rosevelt and Ralph were deeply engaged 
in conversation, she slipped away unobserved to a small ante- 
room, which connected the drawing-room with the conserva- 
tory, and which she saw was at that moment empty. 

Here she sat down in a chair near a large urn filled with 
flowers, which stood on one side of the door leading into 
the conservatory, and fell to musing sadly upon her broken 
hopes. 

She had not been there long when she was aroused by hear- 
ing a gay laugh ring out close at hand. She started as if some 
viper had stung her. 

She knew that sound but too well, and, looking up, she saw 
Josephine Richards, or Lady Carrol, as she believed her to be, 
standing almost beside her. 

She was just upon the threshold and was looking back into 
the conservatory, from which she had come, and at a couple 
standing there among the flowers. 

She had been exchanging some jesting words with them, and 
her laugh was in reply to some playful remark from them. 

She was dressed all in white ; she wore it almost constantly 
now, for she knew she looked lovelier in it than in anything 
else ; everybody had told her that she had never been so beau- 
tiful as when she had stood beside Lord Carrol during that 
mock ceremony. There were great pearls in her hair and on 
her arms, and clusters of white lilacs on her bosom. 

Star held her breath as she looked at her, thinking that she 
was indeed wondrously fair, and that it was not strange that she 
should allure any one by her beauty ; but she believed she was 
dressed thus because she was a bride. 

How bright and happy she looked, too, with the vivid 


382 


REHEARSING THE FAST. 


color in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling from the excitement 
of the moment, and with that light laugh just leaving her 
red lips ! 

- Why should she not be happy. Star thought, bitterly, as the 
wife of one of the noblest men in England, and occupying one 
of the proudest positions in the land? 

A heavy sigh involuntarily escaped her, and, hearing it, Jo- 
sephine turned quickly to see whence it came. 

Stella Gladstone !*' she exclaimed, and instantly all the 
color went out of her face, all the light from her eyes, the 
laughter frcm her lips, and she stood regarding the beautiful 
girl with lowering brow and angry eyes. 


CHAPTER XLL 

REHEARSING THE PAST. 

Star arose as she addressed her thus, and with the act all her 
pride arose as well. 

Yes,'' she said, speaking with cold politeness. ‘‘I suppose 
you are surprised ; you did not expect to meet me here, Miss — 
Lady Carrol. " 

Josephine's face lighted at those last words, and a wicked 
gleam leaped into her black eyes. 

‘‘No, I did not," she returned, trying to call a happy smile 
to her false lips. “And — and — ^)^ou hare heard, then?" and, 
dropping her darkly fringed lids as if in confusion, she played 
with some flowers which she held in her hands, and looked the 
modest bride to perfection at being addressed by the title she 
had so lately assumed. 

“Yes, I have heard of— or at least I saw your marriage in a 


REHEARSING THE PAST. 


383 


paper which was sent me recently,” Star answered, trying hard 
to steady her voice, and resolving that the girl who hated her so 
should not suspect the torture she was enduring. 

But Josephine did suspect it, and was determined not to let 
her go without wringing her heart with something of the agony 
which she had suffered. 

Lord Carrol had dared to tell her, in the midst of her humil- 
iation, that he loved Star, and she was bound to be revenged in 
some way for it. 

She had sent her the Cheshire Gazette, even as Star had mis- 
trusted, but she had not expected to get any such satisfaction as 
this out of it. 

She had been down to the American Legation and found out 
out where Mr. Rosevelt was stopping, and then had marked 
that paragraph and mailed that paper to Star, just to arouse her 
jealousy and show her that she had been a guest in Lord 
CarroFs home for a week. 

It had never entered her head that she would only read the 
notice of that mock marriage, and believe it real, not observing 
that it was connected with the remainder of the article describ- 
ing Lady Sherbrooke/s ball. 

But she now saw that such was the case. Star believed that 
she was really Lady Carrol; and she knew something of what 
she must be suffering on account of it, and with a sense of 
cruel exultation she resolved to give the wheels of the rack that 
she was on another vigorous turn. 

She felt that the lovers would without doubt meet before 
long — perhaps that very evening, for she had seen his lordship 
there only a short time previous to this meeting, and she was 
assured he would waste no time in coming to an understanding 
with Star; but now, while she had her in her clutches, she 
would make the most of her opportunity. 

“I presume it is something of a disappointment to you to 
find me here, and — and situated just as — I am, when you so 


3^4 


REHEARSING THE PAST. 


confidently expected to win his lordship,” sneered Josephine. 

You perceive that it is not always safe to be too trusting, and 
a young peer, even though he were traveling under an assumed 
name, and m^de love to a pretty, poverty-stricken girl, to while 
away an idle hour, could not be expected to marry her.” 

Star was very pale, but she was more than a match for the 
unfeeling girl in her proud beauty. 

She stood like a tall and stately lily before her, and to all 
outward appearance she was no more moved by her scathing 
words than the snows on the peaks of lofty mountains are 
stirred by the fierce winds in the valley far below them. 

‘'Lord Carrol did not travel under an assumed name. I 
have discovered that Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, 
of Carrolton, are one and the same,” Star replied, with cold 
dignity. 

Josephine started, then remembering, said : 

“Oh, of course; I forgot that both names were given in the 
notice of the marriage. But,” she went on, taking an intense 
delight in the torture she was sure she was inflicting, although 
her fair victim gave no sign, “you have no idea how lovely 
Cheshire House is — that is where the dowager Lady Sherbrooke 
lives ; and Carrolton is even more delightful, I am^ told. We 
intend to go there before very long ; but London is very gay 
just now, though it is out of season, and we are having such 
nice times that we prefer to remain here for the present.” 

She glanced at Star angrily. 

If she would but betray the least suffering, to show that she 
was w^ounded by this apparent triumph over her, she would 
have been content. 

But she stood there, her graceful form proudly erect, her 
shining head thrown slightly back, her eyes fixed upon her face 
with an indifferent glance that galled her almost beyond endur- 
ance, while her manner was that of indulgent politeness, as if 


REHEARSING THE PAST. 385 

she were but listening, in a well-bred sort of way, to the bab- 
blings of a spoiled child. 

“I presume you have heard,'' she resumed, ‘'that we came 
abroad to take possession of the estates of Sir Charles Thorn- 
ton, whose death leaves mamma the nearest of kin, and there- 
fore we shall all henceforth occupy a very high position in this 
country. " 

“Indeed.?^’' Star responded, as if it were a matter of no mo- 
ment to her. “I have heard of Sir Charles Thornton, but I 
did not know that you were ‘nearest of kin' to him." 

“Well, you know it now," Josephine retorted, sharply, 
beginning to lose her temper at Star’s immobility; “and for- 
tunately we can do exceedingly well without Uncle Jacob's 
mono, which you so cunningly managed to wheedle him out 
of. We shall not return to America, for we can enjoy so much 
more here among the nobility, where, as I told you before, our 
position is so high, and mine particularly, you know, as — as 
Lady Carrol, is one to be rather envied." 

This last, she thought, must be a dagger in the fair girl’s 
breast, but she was wholly unprepared to have it turned against 
her own. 

“May I take the liberty to ask Miss Richards what she 
means by the statements which she has made — to explain her- 
self, if indeed that is possible,'' said a deep, stern voice just 
behind her. 

Both girls started and turned instantly at the sound, and both 
uttered a cry — one of surprise, the other of dismay. 

Lord Carrol himself stood in the door-way of the conserva- 
tory from which Josephine had entered, and through which he 
had passed on his way from another portion of the building 
back to the drawing-room. 

He had seen Ralph Meredith and Mr. Rosevelt but a mo- 
ment or two after Star slipped away. They told him that she 
was there, and he had instantly left them to seek her. 


386 


REHEARSING THE PAST 


He had seen her standing there in the anteroom through the 
glass as he approached, and he recognized her instantly, 
although the sight had nearly unmanned him. 

As he drew near, however, he heard Josephine's voice, sharp 
and scoffing, and addressing the strangest words to her. 

He stood still and listened, perfectly aghast at what she was 
saying, until he comprehended the whole situation ; and, when 
she made that last amazing assertion, he could endure no 
more, and entered to confront her. 

Star, with one look into his white set face, and a glance of 
astonishment from him to Josephine, whose countenance, for 
once in her life, expressed blankest dismay, sank back pale and 
shivering into the chair from which she had risen when Miss 
Richards addressed her. 

That young lady felt for the moment as if she would like the 
ground to open and swallow her forever from sight. 

But the situation was a desperate one — so desperate that she 
did not care for anything ; so, quickly rallying, she tossed her 
dark head and retorted with a light laugh : 

“ Miss Gladstone was just telling me, my lord, that she had 
heard of my marriage, and I was only carrying out the joke a 
little further." 

“I understand you," he said, briefly, but in accents of 
intense scorn. 

Then, with a quick, eager step, he came between her and 
Star, who, with her white hands folded helplessly in her lap, her 
face like purest marble, felt as if earth was again slipping for- 
ever out of her reach, for her senses were reeling. 

With a stern, authoritative gesture he motioned Josephine 
away, and, reaching down, he took Star's hands in his. 

‘'My darling," he said, in low, thrilling tones, “has she 
been torturing you to death.? There is not one w'ord of truth 
in what she has told you. Come with me, and let me explain 
everything to you. " 


REIiEARSING THE PAST. 


387 

A mocking laugh, which, however, was full of misery, rang 
through the room. 

Lord Carrol looked back and saw Josephine, her face almost 
convulsed with pain and passion, passing out. 

“ Don t think that it is going to be all clear sailing even now, 
my proud, spirited lord, for I will spoil it all if I can.’' 

“Come,” he murmured, gently turning again to Star, and 
paying no heed to those threatening words. 

He drew her unresisting hand within his arm, and led her 
through the conservatory out upon a covered porch at the 
rear. 

This porch was more like a room, for during the winter it 
was inclosed with glass windows, and, being heated with steam, 
formed a part of the hot-house. 

He placed the fair girl in a chair in a secluded corner, and 
then he knelt down before her. 

He took her hands again and drew them to his breast, where 
she could feel the great heart-throbs which made his strong 
frame quiver like a tree struck by the woodman’s ax. 

“My darling,” he said again, “I have seen Mr. Rosevelt, 
and he told me that you were here. I have been looking for 
you everywhere during the last fifteen minutes. Dearest, you 
will let me defend myself now, will you not.^^ You will not 
turn away from me — you will not spoil both our lives by again 
driving me from you, believing me to be a Uraitor and 
coward T ” 

Star shivered. Those words smote her with terrible pain ; 
but her heart had been bounding with new hope since he had 
so sternly confronted Josephine Richards and proclaimed her 
assertion a lie. 

She could not comprehend it, for she had read the notice of 
their marriage with her own eyes. Yet she instinctively trusted 
him, and it was so sweet, after all the miserable past, to have 


388 


REHEARSING THE PAST, 


him there, looking so fondly down into her eyes, and calling 
her his darling in those dear, familiar tones. 

Archie — Archie she murmured, with a sob, ‘‘I know all 
about it — you were never a traitor or a coward. I know you 
never deceived me, and I alone am guilty of a great wrong to 
you.'' 

With a low cry of joy he gathered her close in his arms, and 
laid her shining head upon his breast, calling her by every 
endearing name with which his heart was filled, 

‘‘You know all about it, my love? Who has told you?" he 
asked, surprised. 

“Just one little sentence in a newspaper, which told me also 
that, when at the very moment I found you had been true, my 
life was to be a blank as long as I should live," Star said, with 
unsteady voice and quivering lips. “I read," she added “the 
notice of your marriage with Miss Richards in the Cheshire 
Gazette. These two names, Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord 
Carrol were printed there, and told me the whole story. I 
knew then how I had been deceived. But I cannot under- 
stand. " 

She broke off suddenly, and drew herself away from him 
shivering and sick at heart again. 

Surely that notice would never have been printed if he was 
not married, and she had no right to be thus in the arms of 
another woman's husband. 

She knew that he neither loved nor respected Josephine 
from the way he had addressed her; he called her Miss 
Richards, too, but it was a puzzle that she could not com- 
prehend. 

Lord Carrol read her thoughts, and saw by her white face 
how she was suffering, and he said, with infinite tenderness : 

“ My love, it was all a farce, a mock marriage planned by a 
wild and thoughtless girl, while I was chosen as one of the 


REHEARSING THE PAST, 389 

unfortunate victims and Miss Richards the other. Did"you not 
read the description which followed that notice.?'' 

‘‘No; I read nothing but those horrible words, which told 
me of my own injustice, and that you and I would be parted 
forever. They burned themselves into my brain as if they 
had been branded there with a hot iron, and I cared to read 
no more." 

“If you had," he returned, “you would have been unde- 
ceived ; but I was very angry when I saw how the affair had 
been published, and if I could ascertain who wrote it up, I 
should be tempted to chastise the writer severely." 

Star was weeping now ; great, glad tears of joy chased each 
other over her cheeks, and she did not resist him when he drew 
her into his arms again, wiping with his own hands the glitter- 
ing drops as they fell, while in low, tender tones he told her all 
about the strange events which had conspired to separate them 
for so long. 

“Will you forgive me, Archie.? I was very hard upon you, 
but I was nearly mad with my misery that night when I refused 
to listen to you," Star said, when the story was ended. 

“Forgive you, my own? This moment compensates for 
everything. How were you to know that a titled relative had 
died, making me his heir, and changing or adding to my 
name? I was indeed Archibald Sherbrooke, bound for Amer- 
ica, to travel and study art there, when we went on that 
steamer. I merely dropped the ‘Sir' lest you should be shy of 
me. I did indeed know of the change in my circumstances 
when I next saw you in the station in New York, but in my 
fear of losing you, I resolved not to tell you until I had won 
you, feeling afraid that you, in your modesty, would refuse to 
Lord Carrol the love you would perhaps give to Archibald 
Sherbrooke. 1 never suspected, when I accepted Mrs. Rich- 
ards’ invitation to visit her, that I was going into the very house 
where my own love dwelt. I had paid Miss Josephine some 


390 


REHEARSING THE PAST. 


attention at Long Branch, but her mother was always included, 
and it was only in a friendly way, as I was drawm toward them 
from having discovered that they were of English descent, and 
connected with people here whom I knew. I intended, as I 
told you that night, to seek* you the very next day ; and wEen I 
had won the consent of your friends to an engagement with 
you, in the character of Archibald Sherbrooke, I was going to 
tell you of my real position in life. Now, dear, you know that 
I have never swerved from my allegiance to you. I have been 
as true as truth itself,’' he concluded, smiling fondly down 
upon her. 

have been very foolish, Archie,” Star whispered, "‘but, 
oh ! I am very, very happy now. I was so utterly wretched 
this morning. I have been so wretched all day that it required 
all my courage to come here to-night ; but I forced myself to 
do so because I did not wish Uncle Jacob to mistrust any- 
thing.” 

“And I hear that my modest little Star has become a great 
heiress ; she is no longer the quiet, retiring little maid wEom I 
was so proud and happy to have won that day when w'e went to 
Coney Island,” Lord Carrol said, half regretfully. 

Star lifted her head from his breast and looked at him 
inquiringly, and he thought rather more searchingly than the 
occasion required. 

“I mean,” he explained, “that Mr. Meredith has told me 
that Mr. Rosevelt has adopted you as his heiress.” 

She drew a long breath, but merely returned, in an absent 
way : 

“Yes.” 

“Mr. Meredith told me more, too, my darling,” her lover 
resumed; “he was the one who lifted the burden of sadness, 
caused by your sentence of banishment, from my heart. I 
imagined, also, although his confidence did not extend quite 
so far as this, that he had been my unsuccessful rival, and that 


REHEARSING THE PAST, 


391 

was why you confessed what you did to him regarding your 
affection for me.” 

‘•Did Mr. Meredith tell you that ” Star began, blushing 

crimson as she remembered what her confession had been. 

“Yes, my beloved, and no hungry heart ever teasted upon 
sweeter words. They changed the whole future for me, and I 
was intending te start again for America in just three weeks, to 
search for the star of my life ; the past has been very lonely and 
hopeless. ” 

“Yes, indeed,” Star returned, with a long sigh; “and yet,” 
she added, looking up with a smile, “ I am glad that I am not 
to come to you quite so empty-handed as you found me.” 

“You surely do not regret the promise that you made me 
then?” Lord Carrol questioned, reproachfully. 

“No; for it proves that you won me for myself alone; but 
now that I know you are a peer of England, it is a comfort to 
feel that no one can point the finger of scorn at me and say 
that you have chosen beneath you. ” 

He stopped her with a tender caress. 

“No one should ever have said that to me with impunity, 
under any circumstances,” he rejoined, gravely. 

They talked a long time, and everything was explained — all 
the events of the past rehearsed, all Josephine's duplicity and 
hatred made known. 

“She is a heartless woman — a most contemptible woman,” 
Lord Carrol said, with curling lips and stern brow; “and I 
deeply regret that she is to become a resident in England, as 
we shall doubtless be obliged to meet her in society. She has 
wronged you shamefully, my darling. However,” he added, 
with a luminous smile, “she considers that the ‘^position of 
Lady Carrol will be an enviable one,' and, since you are to fill 
it, I think her punishment will not be a light one.” 

Her punishment was to be no light one, but he had no idea 
how humiliating it would be. 


392 


REHEARSING THE PAST 


Another blissful half-hour slipped unheeded by, and then he 
said : 

‘‘Come, dear; people will begin to wonder what has become 
of us, and besides, I want to introduce you to my mother and 
sister. '' 

He arose as he spoke, and drew her toward the conservatory, 
through which they must pass in order to regain the drawing- 
room. 

“I have already seen your sister,'' Star answered, with a 
bright smile, “and I began to love her immediately, and to 
mourn what I had lost in not having her for my sister, too." 

“She is a dear girl, but I begin to think we shall not keep 
her with us very much longer," Archie returned, with a regret- 
ful sigh. 

“I thought so, too, when Mr. Meredith introduced her to 
me to-night," Star said, archly. 

“Ah! then j'ou read the signs of the times," he answered, 
smiling, “But here comes my mother, and she is looking for 
me, I know, by the expression of her face." 

They were just entering the drawing-room as he spoke, and 
Lady Sherbrooke was coming toward them, looking right and 
left for her son. 

Her handsome face lighted as she saw him, and she quick- 
ened her steps, while she wondered at that new light in his 
eyes, at the bright and youthful expression on his face. 

“Mother," Archibald Sherbrooke said, and there was a 
proud ring in his tone, “I want to introduce to you Miss 
Gladstone, a friend whom I met while I was in America." 

Lady Sherbrooke shot a keen glance into that lovely, blush- 
ing face, and there came a look of surprise into her own, while 
for once she lost something of the graceful self-possession that 
was habitual to her as she greeted Star. 

Her heart went forth to the young girl at once, and she 


THE LAWYER'S REBUKE, 


393 

experienced a shock akin to that which Vivien had felt when 
she met her. 


CHAPTER XLIL 

THE lawyer's rebuke. 

There was something strangely familiar about that slight, 
graceful form and in those lustrous eyes — in that golden- 
crowned head, and the now happy, smiling lips. 

“Miss Gladstone, I am very glad to meet you,'* she began, 
as she cordially put out her hand to her ; then turning abruptly, 
and speaking with a slightly startled accent, she added : 

“Archie, surely I have met her before.'^" 

“Yes," he answered, his face glowing; “I see that you have 
recognized her." 

“Star," and the tender inflection on that name told his 
mother everything, “she has seen the picture that I painted 
when I was in America, and she has now discovered who the 
original is." 

“Yes, my dear," Lady Sherbrooke added, while she studied 
the beautiful, flushed face; “I do recognize your countenance, 
and I am quite proud of my son s achievements as an artist. 
You are an American, I believe. I am very happy to welcome 
you to England." 

Star's heart beat rapidly at this cordial, almost tender greet- 
ing, and wondered if she was indeed the same girl who, feeling 
so wretched and forlorn, had entered that room only two hours 
before. 

“No, mother; Miss Gladstone is not an American," Archie 
explained. “ She is an English lassie, and we met on shipboard 
while crossing the Atlantic; but more of that story anon," he 


394 


THE LAWYERS S REBUKE, 


said, significantly. '^Now, will you entertain her for a few 
moments yhile I go and find Vivien.?” 

‘^With pleasure,” Lady Sherbrooke responded, her heart 
bounding to hear those clear, joyous tones ringing through her 
son s voice — sounds which she had not heard before since his 
first return from America ; while she said to herself : 

“This is the girl whom my son loves and will choose for his 
wife ;” and her heart warmed toward Star as it never had done 
before toward another outside of her own family. 

After finding his sister and taking her back to Star and his 
mother. Lord Carrol sought Mr. Rosevelt and had a long talk 
with him, explaining to him, as he had to his dear one, the 
unfortunate circumstances which had conspired to separate 
them, and learning in return something of their life during the 
past fourteen or fifteen months. 

After this he rejoined the trio of ladies — those three beautiful 
women whom he loved above everything else in the world. 

“The ‘story' that you were going to tell me, Archie, but 
did not, as you were called away to London, is told. I read it 
in your face to-night, and in that of the beautiful girl to whom 
you have introduced me. My boy, I think now that you will 
be your own dear self once more,” Lady Sherbrooke whispered, 
as he came and stood by her side, and his eyes, in reply, told 
her more than his lips could have done ; but he asked, in a 
low, intense tone : 

“ Is she not rightly named Star.?” 

“She is charming; I have no fault to find with her per- 
sonally. But her family.?” she questioned, cautiously. 

“Is all right also, mother mine. I will tell you all about it 
to-morrow. ” 

In a distant corner of the room Mrs. Richards and Josephine 
sat and viewed this meeting, bitterest envy rankling in their 
hearts. 


THE LAWYER'S REBUKE. 


395 

The angry girl had sought her mother upon leaving the ante- 
room, and told her of Star s presence there. 

“I declare it is more than human nature can bear to be 
obliged to encounter her everywhere. And to think that such 
a miserable, insignificant little chit as she was when she came 
to us should win game after game from us. She is a proverbial 
checkmate, I believe,'' Mrs. Richards said, complainingly. “But 
even if she does become Lady Carrol," she added, “I shall take 
care that she does not outshine us. Thank fortune, we shall 
have a handsome income to flourish upon." 

“I hate her — I hate them both! and I wish I were dead!'" 
Josephine cried, passionately. 

When Mr. Rosevelt, Lord Carrol, and his party were about 
retiring, they encountered the Richardses in the great hall. 

Mr. Bosevelt took no notice of them, although he would 
have greeted Mr. Richards had he been with them, and they 
guiltily avoided him. 

The young lord bowed coldly, and would have passed on, 
but Josephine, in a sudden fit of desperation, laid her hand 
upon his arm, saying, in low, fierce tones : 

“ I give you joy of your chambermaid bride ! But beware I 
You will not feel quite so jovial when all London rings with 
the fact that the proud Lord Carrol has married a common 
house-servant I" • 

“ Miss Richards," he returned, haughtily, “even such a state- 
ment of facts could not injure the fair, pure woman whom I 
have chosen for my wife ; but allow me to say that if you are so 
ill-disposed as to publish anything of the kind, you will find, 
to your sorrow, that the shafts from your venomous tongue will 
only serve to poison still further your own life." 

“We shall see 1" she sneered. 

“You will find," he went on, as if he had not heard her, 
“that Miss Gladstone is so far above you, both morally and 


396 


THE LA HAYES’S REBUKE. 


socially, that it does not lie in your power to do her the slightest 
injury/' 

‘*We shall see, my lord!" the maddened girl repeated, vin- 
dictively ; but, without giving her time to say more, his lord- 
ship passed on to Star's side, and drawing her hand within his 
arm, led her away to her carriage. 

Hn 

The day came at last which was to decide Mrs. Richards' 
claim to the Thornton estates, and, according to appointment, 
she repaired to the office of Compton & Bailey, in the highest 
of spirits, dressed in the most magnificent style, and accom- 
panied by Josephine, clad with equal richness, and her husband. 

‘‘Well, Mr. Compton, my probation is ended at last, "she 
said, gayly, to that gentleman, as she entered, and greeted him 
with her most gracious manner. 

“Ahem 1 I suppose we may say that it is," he returned, in a 
strangely embarrassed way. 

“Well, then, I presume there is no need of further delay, 
and we can take possession of the late Sir Charles' property as 
soon as we choose," she remarked, too deeply engaged with 
thoughts regarding her own brilliant future to notice his 
manner. , 

“Ahem I" the lawyer repeated, an uneasy expression on his 
face; “I did expect that I could tell you to-day everything was 
all right and you could go down to Halowell Park as soon as 
you liked ; but " 

“But what.?'* Mrs. Richards demanded, with some show of 
impatience. “It appears to me that you are somewhat mys- 
terious this morning, when heretofore you have acknowledged 
my relationship to Sir Charles Thornton to be proved beyond 
a doubt." 

“Yes, madam, you have clearly proved, it cannot be con- 
tested, that you were a relative of the late baronet's ; but — I am 
sorry — it will be a great disappointment to you, doubtless, to 


THE LAWYERS S REBUKE. 


397 

learn at this late day that another party has put in a claim for 
the estate, as being the nearest of kin.” 

The lawyer heaved a sigh of relief when he had stumbled 
through this piece of ill-news. 

"‘What.?” almost screamed Mrs. Richards, reeling where she 
stood. 

She had never even thought of such a calamity. 

“There is no nearer relative living, she continued, with pale 
lips. “You yourself said you were convinced of that.” 

“And so I was, a month ago, madam; but I have been 
obliged to change my opinion since then.” 

“What — what has changed it.^^” she asked, trembling with 
fear and excitement. 

It would be too dreadful now, when the prize was almost 
within her grasp, to lose it, and to be obliged to return poor 
and disappointed to America. 

“You remember, perhaps,” the lawyer said, avoiding meet- 
ing her eyes, for they were wild in their expression, “ that I told 
you that Sir William Thornton — the late Sir Charles father — 
had a younger brother, Albert by name ” 

“Yes, but you said that he left home years ago to go as a 
missionary to some outlandish place, where he died,” inter- 
rupted the anxious woman. 

“Where it was supposed he died,” said Mr. Compton, with 
significant emphasis. 

“Did he not die? — is he living.'^ — has he returned?” his 
client gasped. 

“No; he died some years ago; but he left a child. That 
child is living, and has put in a claim for the estate.” 

“But you told me he left no issue ” 

“It was all supposition, madam, since we could learn 
nothing to the contrary; but we have recently learned our 
mistake.” 

“He shall not have the property; he may be an impostor. 


398 


THE LAWYER'S REBUKE. 


I shall contest the point,” Mrs. Richards said, with frantic 
vehemence. 

“Ellen, do be reasonable,” said her husband, sternly. 

“Unfortunately for your peace of mind, madam, it is a point 
that cannot be contested,” returned Mr. Compton; “and, if 
you will give me your attention for a few moments, I will ex- 
plain it to you. ” 

With a groan, Mrs. Richards sank into a chair, more wretched 
than she had ever been in her life. 

“Your mother,” began the lawyer, also seating himself, and 
motioning Mr. Richards and Josephine to do the same, “was 
half-sister to the late Sir Charles’ mother. That made her half- 
aunt and you half-cousin to him. That relationship, however, 
would have been near enough to give you the property had no 
nearer claimant appeared. Sir William Thornton, the late Sir 
'Charles’ father, and Albert were own brothers; consequently, 
the child of Albert would be own cousin to the late Sir Charles, 
and being a descendent on his father’s side, by far the nearest 
of kin. Have I made it clear to you 

He glanced as he spoke at Mr. Richards, who nodded, while 
his wife covered her face and groaned aloud. 

“Now,” resumed Mr. Compton, “I will tell you, in as few 
words as I can, the story of this younger brother, Albert Thorn- 
ton. He was quite a number of years Sir William’s junior, and 
at an early age dissented from the established church and re- 
ligion of his ancestors, and insisted upon going as a missionary 
to Africa. This so enraged his father that he disowned him, 
charging him never to show his face inside his ancestral home 
again. Deeply wounded, but still adhering to his convictions 
of duty, he went to Africa, but was obliged to return to Eng- 
land again in the course of a couple of years, on account of 
failing health. He did not, however, present himself in the 
home from which he had been banished, for this neither his 
pride nor his wounded heart would allow him to do. He 


THE LAWYER'S REBUKE. 


399 


therefore settled in a distant county, where he had charge of a 
small parish at a merely nominal salary, during the remainder 
of his life. Not long after his return he married a gentle and 
lovely girl, and one child was born to them, who, recently see- 
ing our advertisement for the nearest of kin to Sir Charles, has 
presented a claim for the estate. 

“Who is this child.? — where is it? — where did it come from 
at this late day?’' questioned Mrs. Richards, who felt as if all 
the world was slipping away from her. 

“Wait one moment and I will introduce you," the lawyer 
said, as, rising, he gently retired to his inner office. 

He returned almost immediately with a lady on his arm. 
Mrs. Richards started to her feet and uttered a piercing scream 
the moment her eyes fell upon her. 

The lady was Star Gladstone ! 

“That girl again!" shrieked Mrs. Richards. “You don't 
mean to tell me that she is the heir to Sir Charles Thornton's 
property ?" 

“Yes, madam, this young lady and no other; but I was not 
aware that you had the honor of her acquaintance," responded 
Mr. Compton, with some surprise, as he led Star to a seat. 

“But her name is Gladstone " 

“ Have a little patience and I will explain still further," in- 
terrupted the lawyer, who was beginning to be disgusted with 
one who gave way so to passion. 

“Miss Gladstone tells me that she has been known by that 
name all her life; that until her eighteenth birthday she was 
not aware that she was entitled to any other. But her father 
left a package of papers at his death, containing a history of 
his life, with all the necessary proofs, but charged her not to 
open it until she was eighteen years of age. In this he related 
what I have already told you, and also the fact that when he 
was a child, his father, through the death of a relative, suc- 
ceeded to the title and estates of the Thorntons of Devonshire, 


400 


THE LAWYER REBUKE, 


upon condition that he assumed the name. Such things hap- 
pen often here in England, you know, as in the case of Lord 
Carrol, whom you are acquainted with. When the elder Mr. 
Gladstone, or Thornton, died, of course William, his eldest son, 
succeeded to the baronetcy. Albert, the second son, upon his 
return and settlement in a parish of Derbyshire, gave his name 
as Rev. Albert Gladstone, and under this name married a Miss 
Chudleigh, who was also discarded by her family for wedding a 
poor dissenting clergyman — one who was deemed far beneath 
her socially, as no one suspected his connections with the 
Thorntons. After her death, and when Mr. Gladstone found 
that he also had not long to live, he said he could not reconcile 
himself to the thought of giving his orphan daughter to the 
care of those to whom he had been a stranger so long, although 
his own blood flowed in their veins ; so he arranged to send 
her to a distant relative of his mother s in America, who agreod 
to take charge of her and her education for her sake. This last, 
however, Miss Gladstone has told me, and her residence in that 
country at the time of the death of the late Sir Charles, and 
her ignorance regarding her relationship to him, accounts for 
the fact that we have but just discovered her claim. Everything 
is as plain as black and white can make it. We have looked 
up the records, and find they correspond with the papers in her 
possession, and among which is a certificate of her parents’ mar- 
riage, and one of her own baptism, together with other impor- 
tant documents ; and now, I think, you cannot fail to perceive 
that Miss Gladstone, being Sir Charles Thornton’s awn cousin, 
is the nearest of kin, and we shall therefore be obliged to give 
her claim the precedence. I regret, madam,” the lawyer con- 
cluded, in his blandest tones, “that we did not learn of this in 
season to save you the trouble and expense of such a long 
journey. However, I trust that you have reaped enjoyment 
sufficient from the trip to compensate you in a measure for your 
disappointment. ” 


THE LAWYERS S REBUKE. 


401 


Mrs. Richards looked blankly from one to another of the 
occupants of that room, as if she could not, even yet, compre- 
hend the magnitude of the calamity which had so unexpectedly 
overtaken her. 

‘'I do not believe one word of it. It is all a piece of fraud 
to cheat me out of my rights/' she cried at length, while her 
own blazing eyes threatened to annihilate the beautiful girl, her 
successful rival, who sat opposite with downcast eyes, and feel- 
ing really sorry, in spite of all that she had suffered at Mrs. 
Richards' hands, for her distress over this terrible defeat. 

‘'Do not allow yourself to become unreasonable over the 
matter, madam, I pray. There has not been, I assure you, 
even the suspicion of a fraud," Mr. Compton said, his own eyes 
beginning to take fire at this assertion. “The papers are all 
there on my table; everything has been written out in the 
plainest manner, and copies made of all the records which go 
to prove what I have told you. You can examine them, if you 
choose ; but there cannot be the slightest doubt regarding Miss 
Gladstone's claim. She alone inherits everything belonging to 
the late Sir Charles Thornton." 

“Oh, she has been the bane of our lives; she has ruined 
and upset every plan that we have made since the day when she 
first set foot in our house — since she came to us like the beggar 
that she was," sobbed the wretched woman, giving way utterly 
to her misery. 

“Ah! then you are the woman to whom Albert Thornton 
confided his orphan daughter when he knew that he could not 
live?" said Mr. Compton, quickly, his keen mind at once grasp- 
ing certain facts which Star, from a feeling of delicacy, had 
withheld from him, when, to her surprise, she learned that 
Mrs. Richards had also come to England to claim the Thorn- 
ton estates. 

“That has nothing to do with the case. She has ruined us. 


’ 402 


THE LAWYER'S REBUKE. 


and that is enough to think about for one day, I should im- 
agine/' she retorted, angrily, and flushing. 

“Ellen !’' and Mr. Richards spoke very sternly; “you are as 
unreasonable as a child. Star has been kindly disposed from 
the first. It is you who have tried to ruin her — who have op- 
pressed and sought to degrade her in a way that is a shame to 
you and your promises to her dead father. It is a bitter thing 
to be obliged to condemn my own wife thus publicly, but I 
cannot calmly listen to your calumniations of her, for, instead 
of being our ruin, she has been our salvation. Only this fall, 
when my business was tottering, and my reason with it — when I 
was upon the verge of bankruptcy — of self-destruction — I confe.ss 
it with shame and sorrow now — she came to me like a beam 
of light and saved me from becoming both a bankrupt and a 
suicide. She gave me, or caused to be given to me, a check 
for ten thousand dollars, which set me upon my feet again. She 
spoke, too, such solemn, gentle words to me as I shall never 
forget, and which kept me from the horrible pit into which I 
was stumbling, and we owe all that we are and have to her. 
To go still farther back, you owe your life to her mother. 
Josephine was saved from a dreadful death by Star's bravery ; 
and, instead of hating her because unforeseen circumstances 
have raised her to a high social position, we should rejoice that 
it is so. Star, my dear girl, you have at least one grateful heart 
in my family.” 

He went over to her side and put out his hand to her, 
though he was so deeply moved that shook like a leaf, and 
she took it with streaming eyes, and wholly unable to utter a 
single word in reply. 

What a wreck that heartless woman had made of his life, she 
thought. He was naturally a kind and tender-hearted man, and 
deserving of a better fate than had been his. 

But his wife bridled angrily, losing all control over her 
tongue. 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR:' 


403 


\ 


‘‘I wish I had never set eyes on her face; and I wish your 
hand had been palsied before it ever took that ten thousand 
dollars from her. She came into our family and stole your 
heart from me by her arts and sly speeches; she wheedled out 
of Jacob Rosevelt the fortune that should have been mine; she 
tricked Josephine out of the man who should have married 
her — who would have done so but for her ; and now she has 
come to steal the Inheritance which ought to have been mine. 
I hale her, and I curse her from the bottom of my heart!’' 

“Then you are a thoroughly bad woman, and I am thankful 
that Sir Charles Thornton’s estate is to pass into more worthy 
hands. Much as I sympathize with and respect your husband, 
madam, I cannot permit my young client to be insulted in 
my presence, and I have the honor to wish you a very good- 
morning.” 

Mr. Compton said this very spiritedly, his fine face flushing 
with indignation, his lips curling with contempt, w'hile he 
walked to the door of his office and held it open, with such an 
air of stern determination that Mrs. Richards did not dare to 
disregard this very emphatic invitation to take her departure, 
and she walked wrathfully, but utterly crushed by her bitter 
disappointment, from the room. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

“god bless our star.” 

Yes, beautiful Star Gladstone was the heiress to Halowell 
Park, and all other property belonging to the late Sir Charles 
Thornton. 

Upon reaching home after her trip to California, which had 


404 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR.** 


been one of great enjoyment as well as profit, she resolved to 
settle down to a cozy, quiet life for the remainder of the winter, 
and make Uncle Jacob as comfortable as she possibly could. 

She was sitting in her own pretty room one morning, some- 
thing as Mrs. Richards had sat in hers only a few weeks pre- 
vious when she had discovered herself to be the heir to Halo- 
well Park, but looking happy and smiling, instead of angry and 
discontented. 

She had brought a pile of music up there to sort and arrange, 
it having been upset by the house-maid while dusting, and as 
she was looking it over, she came upon an old newspaper that 
had got mixed in with it. 

She took it up as one often does, and ran her eye carelessly 
over its columns. 

It happened to be the very paper which contained the notice 
of Sir Charles Thornton's death, and the advertisement for the 
next of kin. 

Star started as her eye caught that name. Then she went 
over both paragraphs carefully. 

“ I do not believe but that he was the one of whom papa 
wrote in that package," she murmured, thoughtfully. “It must 
be the same, for he was the owner of Halowell Park of Devon- 
shire. He was papa’s own nephew ; there are no heirs, and — 
I wonder if I might not in some way be interested in this 
advertisement." 

With heightened color she arose, and going to a drawer in 
her dressing-case, drew forth that worn portfolio which we have 
seen before on several occasions. 

Opening it, she took out those papers which she had read on 
the evening of her eighteenth birthday, and which had caused 
her so much agitation. 

One of them contained a history of her father’s life, as we 
have already stated, telling how his religious views had changed 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR^ 


405 


as he drew near manhood, and how he had desired to go to 
preach to the heathen ; how this had angered his father, who, 
when he found he could not turn him from his purpose, drove 
him from his home, telling him never to set foot in it again ; 
how he had gone to Africa full of holy zeal, but failing in 
health, had been obliged to return and settle in a small parish 
of Derbyshire. Here he had met Miss Chudleigh, who at one 
time was visiting in the neighborhood, and she sympathizing 
with him in his views, they had soon grown to love each other, 
and felt that life would be nothing to them unless spent with 
each other. When, however, she had insisted upon marrying 
him in opposition to the wishes of her friends, she also had 
been discarded by them. 

You once questioned me about your name, my child,'' he 
wrote, ‘*and I told you that your grandmother had given it to 
you. I have sometimes feared I was harsh with you when you 
asked me about my family, but you understand now why, and 
forgive me if I seemed so to you. I loved my mother as I 
never loved any one else save my lost Annie and you, and had 
she been living, I should never have been so cruelly banished 
from my home, for I was her favorite child. She was a grand 
and noble woman, but there was some sorrow connected with 
her early life which I could never wholly fathom. I once, upon 
coming suddenly into her room, found her weeping over a por- 
trait, and when I asked her the cause of her grief, she put it 
hastily out of sight. ‘ My boy, I am foolish and wrong to 
grieve over the past,' she said; ‘but I once lost a very dear 
friend, and sometimes feelings arise which I cannot wholly con- 
trol. I want you to do something for me sometime,' she added, 
trying to smile, ‘and that is, if you should ever marry and have 
a little daughter, you will call her Stella Rosevelt Gladstone.' 
‘I will call her anything you like,' I answered, earnestly, and 
then she kissed me with trembling lips and said I was her 
‘dear boy.' This is how you came by your name, my little Star. 


4o6 ^^god bless our star:^ 

Stella was my dear mother's name; ‘ Rosevelt/ I have grown to 
believe, was one that was sacred to her/' 

Then there was more about his family relations — about his 
father and brother. He said there were very few of his kin 
living; he knew of only one, now that his brother was gone, 
and that was his only child. Sir Charles Thornton, of Halowell 
Park, but he had no family ; he probably believed that he — 
Albert Gladstone Thornton — was dead, as everybody else did, 
and so he had concluded it best to send her— Star — to America, 
to the care of Mrs. Richards, who had promised to care for her, 
and who, he felt, would be true to her trust for the sake of the 
debt which she owed her mother. 

Before he had died he charged her, when giving her the 
package, to guard it as a sacred treasure, and not to open it 
until the stated time, and she had promised to do as he wished. 

After Star had read this paper through, she took up the 
others and went carefully over them ; and these were certificates 
and records, all of which went to prove the truth of what he 
had written. 

Evidently the thought had never occurred to him that Sir 
Charles would die unmarried and childless, and that she would 
own and reign in the home from which he had been banished ; 
for there was no mention of any such thing, and no desire ex- 
pressed that she should ever seek to cultivate the acquaintance 
of her rich cousin. 

When she had been through them all, she gathered them 
up, together with the paper in which she had seen the adver- 
tisement. and carried them below to Mr. Rosevelt, told him 
something of her suspicions, and asked him to examine them 
and see if he thought she would be likely to inherit the Thorn- 
ton property. 

He did look into them carefully, and felt convinced that Star 
stood next in line to Sir Charles. 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR.^* 407 

He was deeply touched upon reading her father’s account of 
his mother, and his own early love. 

Star had never shown it to him before. She had not liked 
to do so for several reasons, deeming it, for one, a sort of sacred 
trust from her father, and thinking also that it might sadden 
her kind friend. 

‘‘I cannot understand why, when her husband had been so 
kind and patient with her, under what must have been such 
trying circumstances, he should have been so harsh and un- 
loving toward his boy for a mere difference of opinion,” he 
murmured, thoughtfully, while thinking of poor Albert Thorn- 
ton’s banishment from home. 

“Little girl,” he said to Star, “there is, I believe, a good 
deal in this for you, and we must sail for England immediately,” 
and Star felt her heart leap within her. 

England was Lord Carrol’s home. 

Then her lips had curled with scorn at her own folly, but she 
agreed at once to do whatever Mr. Rosevelt advised, and in'a 
week they were again crossing the broad Atlantic. 

Upon seeking an interview with Compton & Bailey and laying 
their case before them, they were gratified to learn that, although 
other claims had been filed, Star was the nearest of kin who 
had yet appeared to them. 

The eminent lawyers at once set themselves to work to look 
up the case, found all the records to correspond with those in 
her possession, and finally pronounced her to be the heir to the 
Thornton property. 

Star felt greatly surprised and troubled upon learning that 
Mrs. Richards was one of the claimants, for she had no desire 
to contest any question with her, or to appear to triumph over 
her in any way. She simply wished to let her alone — to drop 
her entirely out of her life. 

When the day came round that was to decide the important 
question for the expectant woman, Mr. Compton insisted, much 


4o8 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR^ 


to Star’s annoyance, that it was necessary for her to meet her, 
and the rights of the true heir to be established in the presence 
of all parties. 

She felt a real pity for the wretched woman when the lawyer 
led her out to confront Mrs. Richards and her family, for she 
was unwilling to cause even an enemy pain, while it did indeed 
almost seem as if she was destined to checkmate every move in 
their life ; but every one, even herself, who knew the circum- 
stances of the past, could but acknowledge that their punish- 
ment was a just one. 

The days, since the meeting and happy reconciliation of Lord 
Carrol and Star, had been full of joy and contentment. 

She did not, however, tell him of her expectations regarding 
the Thornton property, but when the time appointed to meet 
Mrs. Richards arrived, she asked him to accompany Mr. Rose- 
velt and herself to Mr. Compton’s office upon a little matter of 
business. 

He, with them, remained in the inner office during the 
lawyer’s interview with his claimants, and the door being slightly 
ajar, they could hear all that passed in the other room. 

Lord Carrol was greatly astonished at what he heard, but he 
was even more so when Mr. Compton came in and led Star 
forth to present her as the heiress to that large estate. 

I am almost afraid to approach you, my lady of Thornton. 
I begin to fear you may assume some new character at any 
moment, and soar so far beyond my reach that I shall lose you 
entirely,” he said, half in jest, half in earnest, when, that even- 
ing, he came to see her in her own room in St. James square. 

‘‘You know I told you I was glad that you won me when I 
was a poor, obscure little maid,” Star answered, slipping her 
hand confidingly into his. 

“I feel perfectly sure of your love,” she added, “and yet I 
am not sorry that I can come to you now as an equal. I shall 
not be sorry to have the world say of you that you have chosen 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR.** 


409 


wisely,” she concluded, while her glowing eyes and smiling lips 
told that, for his sake, she exulted in her new position and 
wealth. 

‘^What the world might say of you, under any circum- 
stances, would not trouble me,” he answered, gravely. “But 
I, too, am glad that I won your heart when you had nothing, 
if it secures to me your unbounded trust. I do not know 
either,” he continued, smiling, “as I should have had quite as 
much assurance in approaching Sir Charles 1 hornton’s wealthy 
heiress; and }et,” with a proud uplifting of his handsome 
head, “while conscious of my own honor and rectitude, I 
have no need to fear to approach any woman whom I might 
love.” 

Star was standing by his chair, and she bent and touched her 
lips to his forehead as he said this. She was very proud of this 
grand, true man, who had won her to be his wife simply 
because he loved her. 

But in the midst of her joy she could not help feeling some- 
thing of sadness and pity for Josephine and her disappointed 
hopes. 

It was no light thing to have loved and lost such a man as 
this, and she would gladly have comforted her had it been in 
her power to do so. 

“Uncle Jacob,” she said, more timidly than she was in the 
habit of addressing him, the next time she was alone with him, 
“ I shall have so much money, now that I am to be mistress of 
Halowell Park, and — and when Archie takes me,” she added, 
with a burning blush, “that I wish you would make another 
will, and give your fortune, or a part of it at least, to your 
‘ nearest of kin.' ” 

“You are my nearest of kin,” he said, briefly. 

“ I know what you mean,” she replied, affectionately; “our 
hearts are surely akin ; but — I really am verj^ sorry for Mrs. 
Richards and Josephine, not to mention poor Mr. Richards. 


410 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR:* 


who has had such a hard time of it ; and perhaps they would 
feel more kindly toward me if they thought 1 did not care 
for so much money, and truly I do not — I never can use 
itall/^ 

Jacob Rosevelt looked at her with tears in his eyes. 

‘‘ My darling,'' he said, with emotion, ‘‘I believe you have 
the heart of a saint, but I cannot alter my will — everything I 
have belongs to you ; but I leave you free do do whatever you 
choose with it. If you ever find people in need and wish to 
help them, give them what you like; but I shall never break 
the seal of my will. Child," he added, tremblingly, ‘‘you 
have been all the world to me ; and more than this, you have 
helped me to find hope for the world to come. I know that 
you will have a great deal of money without mine, but it shall 
be yours nevei theless ; I know that it will not be used selfishly, 
and I cannot leave it in better hands." 

He bent down and touched her forehead with his lips, 
and then left her; but her heart was filled with a song of 
praise. 

“You have helped me to find hope for the world to come," 
he had said ; and there never had been a sweeter message sent 
in answer to prayer, she thought. 

For a long time, she had noticed, he had been more respect- 
ful whenever the name of the Deity had been uttered in his 
presence, while, when he had accompanied her to Sabbath 
services, he had listened attentively, even reverently to what was 
said. 

Looking back to that dark night on the angry waters, when 
she had first met him, and remembering his sneers at her trust 
in the “All Father," and his bitter, skeptical retorts, she was 
surprised at the change that had gradually come over him ; and 
now, to her amazement, he had confessed to a “hope' for 
eternity. 

It was the one drop too many in her cup of joy, and it 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR, 


411 


instantly overflowed in happy, thankful tears, and in a low- 
voiced pean of gratitude. 

* * * * 5|C 

A month. Lord Carrol said, was all the time that he could 
allow his fair bride-elect to prepare to become Lady Carrol. 

‘‘But I have so much to do!” Star objected, with crimson 
cheeks. 

“Then you must increase your forces,” he answered, with a 
fond smile. “I know that it is ‘etiquette' to let the lady 
name the day, but considering all things, I think I ought to 
have that privilege. Darling, we have been separated so long 
that I do not feel like living without you a day more than is 
actually necessary. My mother wants you to come to her in 
Belgrave Square, and remain as her guest, while she and Vivien 
will assist about the wonderful trousseau, which they consider 
indispensable for the occasion under discussion.” 

It was of no use for Star to make objections, for they were 
every one overruled, and it was at length decided that Lord 
Corrol should have his way, and she went to Belgrave Square 
for the intervening month. 

Mr. Meredith was cordially urged to remain in London until 
after the wedding, and as Grace had been sent for to act as 
bride-maid, and a pair of clear gray eyes had earnestly sec- 
onded the appeal, he could not refuse. 

He bore this “blighting” of all his previous “hopes” with 
wonderful equanimity, however, and ere the eventful day 
arrived that was to make Star a bride, he had won a promise 
from lovely Vivien Sherbrooke that at the end of another year 
she would become his wife. 

“ Fickle I” did I hear some fair reader ejaculate in a tone of 
contempt.? 

Well, perhaps he was ; but then when he had been so heart- 
broken over Star's rejection he did not know that there was a 
Vivien Sherbrooke in the world. 


412 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR,^* 


We are always disappointed, often unreasonably so, when we 
cannot get what we want, and perhaps his passion for our 
heroine was not quite so intense as he had imagined it to be. 
However, be that as it may, Lord Carrol's fair sister had con- 
vinced him that 

Taking the year together, my dear, 

There isn’t more cloud than sun.” 

And he had concluded to spend the remainder of his life bask- 
ing in the sunlight of her presence. 

Mrs. Richards, with her family, lost no time in returning to 
America after this crushing disappointment. 

They could not remain and face the people to whom they 
had proudly boasted of their future greatness, nor could they 
bear to look upon Star’s happiness and triumph over them; 
while, besides all this, they weie greatly cramped in purse, after 
the extravagant outlay which Mrs. Richards insisted was neces- 
sary for people with their expectations. 

Mr. Richards was very much depressed, for, to say nothing 
of the money w'hich they had spent, he feared the worst from 
his long absence and neglect of business. 

He went to see Star and Jacob Rosevelt before they sailed; 
he could not leave without bidding them farewell, and assuring 
them of his gratitude and good-will. 

They received him most kindly, and he spent a pleasant hour 
with them. 

As he took Stars hand at parting, he bent down and kissed 
her fair, upturned face, while great, regretful tears rolled down 
his cheeks. 

“I am sorry to lose you, dear,” he said; ‘'but I know you 
will be happy, as you certainly deserve to be, and may Heaven 
bless you in your new' life. I shall never forget how much I 
owe you — how you saved me by your kindness, and I know 
you wdll think of us all more kindly than w'e deserve.” 


^^GOD BLESS OUR STAR,'* 413 

He did net give her time to reply, but turning, grasped Mr. 
Rosevelt’s hand, and then was gone. 

A year later she heard that he was dead — that he died sud- 
denly, after struggling hard with business and business troubles, 
and that his family had been left in very reduced circum- 
stances. 

Tiirough Ralph Meredith she caused a handsome sum to be 
invested, the income of which they were to enjoy while they 
should live, and she never saw or heard from them again. 

* * * 

St. George’s church, Hanover Square, was crowded upon 
Star Gladstone’s bridal morning, and “no bride so fair” had 
passed beneath its aristocratic arches for many a year, was the 
verdict which all Belgravia pronounced as it watched her leave 
the altar and move down the spacious aisle leaning upon the 
arm of her noble husband. 

Her dress was of Lyons satin, and one of Worth’s most ele- 
gant productions. The lace which adorned it was the finest 
and costliest which far-famed Brussels could produce, and the 
vail “a perfect marvel.” 

The bridal wreath was of delicate, feathery clematis, and was 
fastened to her head and vail with a set of five beautiful 
diamond stars, the gift of Jacob Rosevelt. 

Grace Meredith and her brother presented a pair of elegant 
ear-ornaments to match ; Lady Sherbrooke a necklace and tiara 
of pearls, and — time would fail me were I to enumerate all the 
costly gifts which were showered upon this lovely bride. There 
were six bride-maids, and as many “best men.” Jacob Rose- 
velt gave Star away to the man whom he believed to be worthy 
of her in every respect, and felt as if he were indeed giving up 
his own and only child, although she had told him she could 
never consent to be separated from him. 

They were to spend a couple of months at Carrolton, Lord 
Carrol’s country seat, whither upholsterers and decorators had 


414 


FAITH^S TRIUMPH. 


been sent, as soon as the wedding had been decided upon, to 
make everything fresh and attractive for them. 

Of course Mrs. Blunt, that much ‘‘mistaken'' but honest and 
affectionate creature, was indispensable at this time, and she 
was made about as happy as it is possible for a mortal to be in 
this life by Star’s assurance that she should be a fixture in her 
household as long as she should live. 

After the two months at Carrolton they were to go to Halo- 
well Park for a season, and take a look at the home of the 
Thorntons. 

There was to be no stereotyped tour. Star said she had 
traveled enough for the present, and would much prefer to 
settle down to quiet home life — perhaps by another year they 
might feel like making a trip to the Continent. 

Lady Sherbrooke had already grown to love her new daugh- 
ter very dearly. 

“ It is well that I do love her," she said, tearfully, to Vivien, 
when the grand wadding was over, the guests all gone, and 
they were left by themselves, “ if I must lose you, as I expect 
to, before very long ; but if I had searched the world over I 
could not have found a fairer, sweeter wife for my son. Heaven 
bless our Star! She bids fair to prove a guiding light in 
Archie’s home." 


CHAPTER XLIV. 
faith's triumph. 

“Star!" 

“Yes, Uncle Jacob." 

“The night has almost come." 


FAITH^S TRIUMPH. 


415 

‘‘The dawn, you mean, dear; do not call it night, for truly 
I believe it is the break of day for you. 

“You are right; I should not call it night. But always 
remember, dear, and let the thought comfort you when you 
come to miss me, that your hand has guided me through 
the darkness, pointing me ever toward the light of a better 
world.'' 

The speaker paused, for he was very weak. 

Jacob Rosevelt lay upon a luxurious couch in an elegant 
apartment of Lady Star Carrol's beautiful home, and looking 
his last upon earth. 

Everything that wealth, and love, and care could do had 
been done for the dear old man whom she loved so fondly; but 
now, after three years of such peace and content as once he 
had never thought to enjoy, he was dying. 

Star, who, in a spotless white wrapper, sits beside him, has 
grown a trifle matronly in her appearance, a little rounded and 
fuller in figure, and there is something more of dignity in her 
bearing ; but she has the same star-like beauty — she is not one 
whit less lovely or less deserving of her name than when we 
last saw her on her bridal morn. 

A year of almost unalloyed happiness passed after that event, 
and then there was born a fine heir to the Carrol estate — a boy, 
of whom his father was very proud, and who at once became 
the pet and pride of the whole household. 

Uncle Jacob, with this little one folded within his arms, or 
sitting crowing upon his knee, with Star fondly attentive to his 
every want, and Lord Carrol to lean upon in his old age, felt as 
if he had attained as nearly to perfect happiness as any one 
could do in this world. 

But during the third year after their marriage he had 
gradually but surely failed, until, to the great grief of all, they 
were obliged to acknowledge that he had not long to live. 

This was the first great sorrow of Star's wedded life ; but she 


4i6 


FAITH^S TRIUMPH, 


Strove to bear it cheerfully, at least in Mr. Rosevelt's presence, 
resolving that no mourning or repining should cloud the little 
time that remained to him to live — that there should be noth- 
ing but peace, and a looking forward to the great change as 
simply the sweeping aside of a misty vail and an entrance into 
something more blessed and beautiful than earth could give. 

Now the crisis had come, and the old man, his wan face 
turned toward the fading light of a glorious day,, felt that his 
strength and senses were slipping away from him, and told the 
constant watcher by his side that the ‘‘night had come.” 

“ No, I ought not to have said that,” he repeated, after a few 
moments of rest, while a smile parted his pale lips ; “the night 
is past, and you, dear one, have been my guiding star in the 
midst of its deepest gloom. I did not have much faith in a 
better future until I knew you you set me to thinking that 
night on the angry deep, when you told me you ‘had been 
taught to trust our Heavenly Father,' and that ‘one could 
hardly have much faith in one s self at such a time as that.' 
Yes, your simple trust in your Father's faith, your pure and 
gentle life, my Star, has led me to God, and without a fear I 
resign myself into His hands; before another day dawns I shall 
have entered into my rest, and the Sun of Righteousness will 
shine upon me.” 

“Oh, Uncle Jacob,” Star said, her voice full of unshed tears, 
but with a holy awe shining in her beautiful face, “you have 
never talked so plainly to me — you have never opened your 
heart like this to me, and I am so thankful to you for speaking 
such precious words to me before ” 

She stopped ; her trembling lips could not frame the words 
to complete the sentence. 

‘“Before I leave you, never more to look upon your dear 
face in this life,” he said, with a tender smile on his lips, while 
the light of faith grew brighter in his eyes. “Yes, dear, it is 
so. We both know it, and why not speak of it calmly, as of a 


FAITH TRIUMPH. 


417 


journey, during which we should be separated only for a little 
while. I shall go first, my darling, but the vail that will hide 
us from each other is dropping very softly and gently. You 
will not grieve for me, my child 

‘‘ No, no. Uncle Jacob ; only for myself, who will be so very 
lonely without you."' 

But Star could not quite keep back the quiver from her 
voice as she said this. He noticed it, and put out his thin 
hand to clasp it. 

“Be comforted, my darling, with the thought of what you 
have made the last years of my life — a season of peace and 
content. Remember always that without you I should have 
grcped on in darkness until my soul would literally have gone 
out into the ‘night.' But now, as I have said, I have no fear. 
No; a bright vision rises up before me; I seem to see just 
beyond the ‘great white throne' of which you read only last 
Sabbath, and where sits the form of Him who has taken from 
me all the guilt of sin and unbelief. It is Jesus, the Lamb of 
God, and you^ my beloved, by the gentle influence of your 
beautiful faith, have led me thither." 

Star bent down and kissed the pale hand clasping hers, and 
which was growing cold even then, while the tears which she 
could not restrain fell hotly upon it. 

“I know that I am dying," he went on, more weakly than 
before; “I know that this chill which I feel creeping over me, 
benumbing my senses and dimming my sight, is death. I 
know that soon my breath must cease, and that the King of 
Terrors will cut the cord which binds me to earth and all I 
love here. But there is no terror in the thought, for the faith 
which you have taught me points me to the ‘ radiant vistas of a 
world divine,' where perchance I may find among the ransomed 
throng a spirit who was once kindred to my own. Ah, my 
darling, dry your tears, and remember that, in spite of this dis- 
solving frame, I am whole I for the healing hand of Christ hath 


4i8 


FAITWS TRJUMPil. 


touched me, while your life, passing in its brief transit over 
mine, has been the instrument of it all. " 

Is this a sad scene with which to close my story? 

Is it sad to see the fruits of a beautiful life, and to learn how 
one faithful soul led another home to heaven and God? Will 
any one call such a triumph as the passing away of Jacob 
Rosevelt sad ? 

No. At least it did not appear so to those who witnessed it. 

It was a hallowed room where Star sat, a little later, and 
gazed upon her dead — upon that brow which had settled into 
such tranquillity — upon that restful, upturned face, which wore 
a smile ‘‘calm as a twilight lake,” and upon which “Gods 
full-orbed peace was shining,” transfiguring it with something 
of the radiance that had enraptured the fleeting soul. 

But she would not grieve for him ; for, although she should 
never cease to yearn 

“ for the touch of a vanished hand. 

And the sound of a voice that was still,’* 

she knew that, in that far-off world “where the weary are at 
rest,” it was “well with him.” 

And when they laid him away in the family vault at Halo- 
well, where, too, lay the moldering form of her whom he had 
so loved in the days of his earlier manhood, she did not mur- 
mur, for she felt that he had left behind him a wealth of faith, 
and love, and trust that would glorify all her own after-life, and 
she found herself repeating, with one of our sweetest poets : 

“ Do men die thus? And is it this to die?” 

All through the years that came and went in her beautiful 
home, of which she was the chief charm, she carried the mem- 
ory and influences of that last hour of Jacob Rosevelt’s life, 
and it seemed to be an added link in the golden chain that 
bound her soul to their common God. 

The thought of it was like a strain of heavenly music, mak- 


FAITH^S TRIUMPH, 419 

ing her life rich with melody. It was like a breath from the 
flowers of Paradise, perfuming all around her. 

Her husband worshiped her — reverently, as a gift from the 
Divine Hand; her children '‘sat at her feet and learned of 
her,” and, rising up, "called her blessed while all who knew 
her likened the influence of her lovely example, the luster and 
beauty of her life, to the "transit"' of some bright "star." 


[the end.] 


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By BERTHA M. CLAY 50 


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makingwith the best fiction that can be obtained. For sale by all 
Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 

P. O. BOX 2734. 25-31 ROSE Street, New York. 




FIGHTING FOR IT. 

Here is a pood-natured scramble for a cake of Pears’ Soap, which only 
illustrates how necessitry it becomes to all people who have once tried it 
and discovered its merits. Some who ask for it have to fiirht for it in a 
more serious way, and that too in drug stores where all sorts of vile and 
inferior soaps aie urged upon them as substitutes. But they can always 
get the genuine Pears’ Soap.if they will be as persistent as a re these urchins. 







♦ V. 






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